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THE 


PROGRESSIVE  AGES, 


TRIUMPHS  OF  SCIJMOE 


AND   TREASURES    OF 


,  JH£¥0R¥ 


COMPILED    BY 


PROF.  H.  L.  HARVEY. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


SOLD   BY   SUBSCRIPTION   ONLY. 


ft 

J.  A.  RUTH  &  CO., 
PHILADELPHIA  AND  CHICAGO. 

1881. 


COPYRIGHT,  1880, 
BY  J.  A.  RUTH  &  CO. 


Manufactured  by 

J.  A.  RUTH  &  Go's 

PUBLISHING  HOUSE. 


INTRODUCTION. 


'T  seems  very  natural  for  us,  in  this  age  of 
the  world,  to  overestimate  the  value  of  man's 
acquirements,  knowledge  and  progress  in  the 
arts  and  sciences  and  in  the  hidden  secrets  of 
nature.  This  age  is  so  vastly  superior  to  former 
ages  in  advantages,  that  many  seem  to  think  that 
man  has  reached  his  highest  perfection  of  knowledge. 
But  this  cannot  be  true,  for  something  must  yet 
remain  to  learn,  no  matter  what  the  extent  of  his 
knowledge. 

We  do  live,  truly,  in  an  enlightened  age.  For  six 
thousand  years  man  has  existed  on  the  earth,  and 
has  continued  to  progress,  so  that  we  have  before 
us  the  inventions  and  discoveries  of  preceding  ages; 
and  on  this  foundation  our  knowledge  is  built. 

But  have  the  great  discoveries  all  been  made  ? 
And  is  there  no  room  for  further  progress?  If  we 
believe  those  who  are  capable  of  knowing,  we  shall 
find  that  in  their  opinion  we  are  just  entering  the 
great  age  of  discoveries,  and  that  man's  knowledge, 
compared  with  what  remains  to  be  known,  is  infi- 
nitely small. 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

Some  may  ask  where  is  the  field  for  progress? 
They  are  directed  to  the  sciences.  Astronomy  is  a 
science  nearly  two  thousand  years  old,  but  is  it  com- 
plete? Do  we  know  all  that  is  to  be  known  about 
it?  Far  from  it.  Natural  philosophy  and  geology, 
too,  are  old,  yet  regarding  them,  hundreds  of  unan- 
swerable questions  might  be  asked.  Chemistry  is  in 
its  infancy,  and  so  on  through  the  whole  catalogue 
we  see  there  is  plenty  of  room  for  genius  to  develop 
itself. 

Through  every  day  of  our  lives  we  experience  the 
light  and  heat ;  no  one  can  tell  us  what  they  are. 
Though  man  has  made  electricity  his  servant,  and 
one  of  the  most  important  agents  in  civilization,  he 
knows  nothing  of  its  nature. 

In  art,  too,  there  is  room  for  work.  Inventions 
are  called  for  every  day  which  are  as  yet  unknown  ; 
but  the  future  will  surely  bring  them  out. 

Genius  must  not  slumber.  There  is  plenty  of 
work  and  plenty  of  room.  What  the  past  has  left 
undone  the  future  must  accomplish. 


CONTENTS. 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  SCIENCE       -                                    .  IT 

SCENES  IN  THE  POLAR  REGIONS    -  24 

INDIA-RUBBER   ------.          ,        *         -  40 

WHAT  PATENTS  HAVE  DONE         -  46 

GALILEO    ------_,,-  50 

NAPOLEON'S  PASSAGE  OF  THE  ALPS       •'*...-        ~        •        -  57 

ALCHEMY  AND  CHEMISTRY         -  66 

NATURE'S  TEACHINGS    -__-,.-_-  73 

MORE  THAN  ONE  UNIVERSE      -        -         •        -        -        -  83 
BOTTOM  OF  THE  OCEAN        ______        -89 

PEARL-FISHING  IN  MEXICO        ______  94 

NEST-MAKING  FISHES   ---.----97 

FISHING  IN  SARGOSSA  SEA        ___-__.  99 

SUBTERRANEAN  CAVES  -                                                       -  .      -  103 

THE  GREAT  PLAINS          -        -        --        -        -  ..   -  -  no 

THE  MOUND  BUILDERS          -        -         .        -        -        -        -114 

THE  OLD  AMERICA   ---         .        _        _        _        _  n8 

FALLS  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE        ~        -        -        -        -        -121 

ANTEDILUVIAN  RELICS       -                  .  123 

CRATER  OF  KILAUEA     --------  129 

THE  CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO       ------  133 

PATAGONIA  AND  PATAGONIANS              _____  144 

AN  OPIUM  DEN        -_--____  146 

IGNIS  FATUUS        __--__-._  148 

THE  MONKEY  RACE          _______  150 

COMBATIVENESS  OF  BlRDS      --_-__-  162 

GEYSERS  OF  WYOMING       _______  164 


8  CONTENTS. 

DESCRIPTION  OF  AN  EARTHQUAKE         -        -        -        -        -  170 

SPORTING  IN  THE  TROPICS        -_.___  171 

COFFEE  CULTURE  IN  BRAZIL          ______  175 

THE  PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER        -  178 

A  FLOATING  CITY         ---.____  189 

JUGGLERS  OF  INDIA  --------  195 

TRAINED  ELEPHANTS    --------  197 

THE  ANTARCTIC  REGION           --_.__  203 

BAFFIN'S  BAY  BY  MOONLIGHT 206 

RUINS  OF  POMPEII    --------  208 

UNDER  THE  ICE    -        -        -        -        -        -        -        -        -215 

THE  GREAT  MOUNTAINS  -------  225 

LET  us  HAVE  MEN       --------  232 

PENALTY  OF  GREATNESS 235 

FERNANDO  DE  SOTO 237 

MICHAEL  ANGELO      --------  241 

PAUL  GUSTAVE  DORE   -        -        -        -        -        -        -        -252 

THE  ROTHSCHILDS     --------  254 

JOHN  JACOB  ASTOR 258 

GREELEY'S  SPECIMENS        ----___  263 

THE  SILENT  MONKS      --------  266 

CLEOPATRA        ---------  268 

THE  NIGHTINGALE        -        -        -        -        -        -        -        -272 

FAIRY-BELLS 277 

DEATH  REVEALS  NO  MYSTERIES    ------  284 

HAND  WORK 287 

SHORT-TAILED  MANIS  --------  290 

VIVISECTION       ---------  292 

THE  OCEAN  WAVES 293 

MOON  THEORIES 298 

CAMPHOR  MANUFACTURE      -        -        -        -        -        -        -  300 

CLOVES  AND  PEPPER          -------  302 

THE  SACRED  IBIS          --------  304 

TREELESS  JUDEA        --------  308 

THE  MAN  OF  LITERATURE    -                 309 


CONTENTS.  9 

THE  MAN  OF  WIT  AND  HUMOR 314 

THE  DRUIDS          -        -        -        -        -        -        -        -        -321 

NOTED  MEN  OF  THE  PAST 323 

ECCENTRICITIES  OF  GREAT  MEN  -        -        -        -        -        -331 

ISRAEL  PUTNAM        -_--.-..  332 

THE  TEMPLE  OF  THE  SUN    -------  337 

SOUNDS  AND  SILENCE        -------  ^59 

THE  BOTTOMLESS  PIT 350 

ANTIQUITY  OF  THE  BARREL       -        -        -        -        -        -  351 

ITASKA  LAKE        -----.._.  353 

SWIMMING  IN  SALT  LAKE          ------  355 

CORAL  AND  PEARL  FISHING  -        -        -        -        -        -357 

GEMS  AND  PRECIOUS  STONES     -        -        -        -        -        -  359 

THE  WORLD'S  GOLD      --------  363 

PERILS  OF  THE  AERONAUT        ------  365 

MIRROR  LAKE _-_.  37! 

THE  STORY  OF  AN  INVENTION          -----  373 

FALLS  OF  THE  ZAMBESI         ---....  375 

MANUFACTURE  OF  IRON    -------  379 

THE  GRIZZLY  BEAR       --------  39! 

HORSE-POWER  ---------  396 

COLORING  MATTERS 398 

THE  JELLY-FISH         --------  40o 

THE  CLOCK  OF  CLOCKS         -------  404 

MANUFACTURE  OF  OIL-CLOTH           -----  406 

THE  CHIMPANZEE           -        -        -        -        -     •   -        -        -  4io 

THE  WANDERING  MINSTREL      -        -        -        -        -        -  412 

BATHING  IN  FAMOUS  WATERS       ------  ^i§ 

THE  BARBER  IN  THE  EAST        ------  4^ 

COMETS  AND  METEORS  -         -        -         -         -         -         -421 

HAPPY  ACCIDENTS    --------  433 

MILAN  CATHEDRAL       --------  435 

THE  CRISIS  OF  LIFE 437 

PAST,  PRESENT  AND  FUTURE 444 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


FRONTISPIECE                         -  2 

AMONG  THE  ICEBERGS     -  -25 

THE  JOURNEY  ACROSS  THE  ICE      -  -      33 

GALILEO  IN  PRISON         -  53 

NAPOLEON  AT  THE  BURNING  OF  Moscow  -      59 

NATURE'S  TEACHING       -  75 

GIBRALTAR      -           -  91 

THE  STICKLEBACK                         -  98 

SUBTERRANEAN  CAVES         -                                    -  -     105 

THE  JUNIATA,  COLORADO  -            -          113 

UPPER  FALLS  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE       -  -            -     122 

IGNIS  FATUUS — "JACK-O'-LANTERN"    -  -          149 

GEYSERS  OF  WYOMING         ...                        .  .     ^5 

SPORTING  IN  THE  TROPICS         -                                    -  -          173 

THE  BRIDGE  OF  SIGHS         -  -     191 

ELEPHANTS  IN  THEIR  NATIVE  STATE  -          199 

WETTERHORN  MOUNTAIN,  SWITZERLAND  -     227 

DE  SOTO  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  -          239 

PAUL  GUSTAVE  DORE           -                                    -  -     253 
MONASTERY  OF  SAN  MARTINO                                       ...          267 

THE  NIGHTINGALE    ...  -    275 

THE  SHORT-TAILED  MANIS         -  -            -          291 

OCEAN  WAVES                                                            -  -     297 
THE  SACRED  IBIS                                        .....          30^ 

RUINS  OF  A  DRUID'S  TEMPLE        -  -    322 

OLIVER  CROMWELL          ...  .          325 

SCENE  IN  AN  AFRICAN  FOREST      -  -     340 

THE  WILD  CAT  AND  ITS  PREY  -          347 

ITASKA  LAKE  -     354 

PERILS  OF  THE  AERONAUT        -                                    -  -          367 

MIRROR  LAKE,  CALIFORNIA  -     372 

FALLS  OF  THE  ZAMBESI,  AFRICA          -  -          377 

HOME  OF  THE  GRIZZLY  BEAR  393 

THE  JELLY-FISH                                                   -  -            -          401 

THE  CHIMPANZEE      -  -     411 
DIFFERENT  KINDS  OF  COMETS                           ....          422 

METEORIC  SHOWER    -                         -  -     431 

THE  GREAT  CATHEDRAL,  MILAN,  ITALY         -  -          436 


THE  PROGRESSIVE  AGES. 


THE   TRIUMPHS   OF   SCIENCE. 

F  we  look  at  the  history  of  the  world,  we  shall 
find  that  the  brilliant  age  of  civilization  and 
enlightenment  dates  back  only  about  three  or 
four  hundred  years.  The  ancient  Greeks  and 
Romans  of  two  thousand  years  ago  had,  it  is  true, 
made  some  advances  in  civilization  and  knowledge, 
which  at  that  time  had  raised  them  above  the 
nations  of  Christendom  ;  but  what  was  their  knowledge 
when  compared  with  the  learned  minds  of  to-day?  In 
many  things  an  humble  school-boy  of  the  nineteenth 
century  would  utterly  confound  the  logic  of  a  score  of 
ancient  expounders,  and  not  half  try. 

In  those  days  the  great  teachers  like  Plato,  Socrates, 
and  Demosthenes,  taught  their  pupils  orally,  and  in- 
struction was  passed  from  lip  to  lip,  or  written  out  at 
enormous  expense.  Years  and  centuries  rolled  away, 
and  the  masses  remained  in  ignorance.  Books  could 
only  be  produced  by  writing  and  copying  with  a  pen, — 
a  slow  and  tedious  process.  It  required  years  of  labor 
to  produce  a  copy  of  the  Bible,  and  its  cost  was  often 
equal  to  that  of  a  good  farm.  Books  were,  therefore, 
only  in  reach  of  the  rich.  The  poor  could  scarcely 
think  of  their  purchase. 

Knowledge  of  the  arts  and  sciences  was  confined  to 
the  few ;  and  consequently  its  progress  was  extremely 

ii 


I2  THE   TRIUMPHS   OF  SCIENCE. 

slow  and  backward.  Occasionally  there  were  natural 
scholars  and  shining  lights  in  the  world,  as  now ;  but 
they  had  no  means  of  diffusing  their  knowledge  among 
men.  Their  grand  ideas  and  noble  lectures  rarely 
reached  beyond  the  sound  of  their  voices,  and  but  few 
persons  could  be  benefited  by  them.  Their  brilliant 
talents  and  silent  thoughts  could  not  be  hurled  away 
to  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe  by  the  medium  of  the 
newspaper  and  printed  page,  to  illumine  other  minds  a 
thousand  miles  away,  and  the  years  came  and  went, 
and  generation  succeeded  generation  with  little  ap- 
parent change. 

Emperors,  despots,  popes  and  priests  ruled  the 
world  for  power  and  profit.  The  ignorant  people  who 
had  been  taught  to  receive  their  word  as  the  only  law, 
tamely  submitted  to  a  life  of  slavery.  They  dared  not 
think  for  themselves,  and  they  knew  not  their  God- 
given  rights,  powers  and  privileges.  They  became  will- 
ing slaves,  "hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water"; 
willing  to  work  and  toil  their  lives  away  to  suit  the 
wishes  of  the  ruling  power,  provided  they  could  obtain 
food  and  clothing  enough  to  keep  the  soul  and  body 
together.  In  this  way,  thousands  of  years  ago,  Thebes, 
Babylon  and  Jerusalem  were  built.  In  this  way  the 
pyramids  of  Egypt  and  the  stupendous  works  at  Pal- 
myra and  Nineveh  were  erected.  And  in  later  years 
the  mind  and  toil  and  gold  of  generations  were  in  like 
manner  lavished  upon  the  churches  and  cathedrals  of 
Europe. 

Gradually,  however,  as  age  after  age  passed  away, 
the  mind  of  man  began  to  struggle  up  from  the  dark 
mists  of  ignorance,  and  to  develop  itself.  The  masses 
began  to  look  into  their  situation  ;  and  as  they  studied, 
thought  and  reasoned,  they  saw  that  they  were  created 


THE    TRIUMPHS   OF  SCIENCE.  j^ 

equal  to  their  masters,  and  that  their  lives  were  being 
worn  away  to  enrich  and  fill  the  greedy  coffers  of  the 
grasping  and  avaricious  few. 

At  length,  in  1441,  John  Guttenberg  and  Dr.  Faust, 
of  Mayence,  Germany,  came  forward  with  the  crowning 
invention  of  the  modern  world.  This  was  the  art  of 
printing  from  movable  types ;  an  invention  that  im- 
mortalized their  names  as  the  greatest  benefactors  of 
the  world  ever  produced.  It  is  true  the  Chinese  claim 
to  have  made  the  discovery  several  hundred  years 
before,  but  its  use  was  unknown  among  enlightened 
nations,  and  the  two  illustrious  Germans  above  named 
were  discoverers  and  inventors  none  the  less,  if  they 
were  not  the  first  originators.  When  the  type  for  a 
book  was  once  set,  hundreds  and  thousands  of  copies 
could  be  printed  at  very  little  cost.  Books,  pamphlets 
and  papers  now  began  to  be  disseminated  among  the 
people,  and  teachers  sprang  up  on  every  hand.  The 
minds  of  poor  laboring  men  were  at  once  brought  in 
communication  with  the  profoundest  minds  on  the 
globe  ;  and  now  commenced  the  great  struggle  between 
truth  and  error.  New  scientific  theories  arose  in  con- 
tradiction to  the  teachings  of  those  who  had  formerly 
been  unquestioned.  Copernicus  denounced  the  Ptole- 
maic system  of  astronomy,  and  declared  the  sun  to  be 
the  center  of  the  solar  system.  Harvey  announced  his 
discovery  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood.  Martin 
Luther  raised  his  protesting  voice  against  the  Pope  and 
the  corrupted  religion  of  the  time.  A  mighty  reforma- 
tion was  begun,  headed  by  noble  minds,  working 
shoulder  to  shoulder  at  the  great  wheel  of  universal 
progress.  Not  solely  a  religious  reformation,  but  a 
reformation  in  learning,  in  art,  in  science,  in  everything. 

The  old  school  of  scientific  expounders  beheld  the 


I4  THE    TRIUMPHS    OF  SCIENCE. 

new  and  rapidly  rising  sects  with  alarm.  In  the  near 
future  they  beheld  their  doom.  The  new  doctrines  were 
declared  false,  heretical  and  dangerous  ;  and  every  nerve 
was  strained  for  their  overthrow.  Copernicus,  Galileo 
and  others  were  arrested  and  hurried  away  to  prison. 
Harvey  was  looked  upon  as  a  foal  or  a  madman,  and 
Luther  was  met  with  the  most  determined  opposition. 
Excitement  ran  high,  and  in  the  darkened  age  of  igno- 
rance and  fanaticism,  imperious  and  arbitrary  rulers 
established  that  infernal  court  —  the  Inquisition. 
Thumb-screws,  scourges,  chains,  racks,  and  every  other 
instrument  of  torture  the  hellish  ingenuity  of  man  could 
invent,  filled  its  execution  rooms ;  and  the  work  carried 
on  in  the  star  chambers  of  this  horrid  tribunal  was 
well  calculated  to  strike  terror  to  the  heart  of  the 
strongest  mind.  In  the  name  of  justice,  and  even  holy 
religion,  men  were  bound  upon  the  cruel  rack,  with 
clasps  around  their  wrists  and  ankles,  ropes  were 
attached,  passing  over  windlasses,  the  executioners 
took  their  places,  and  at  a  signal  the  doomed  victim  was 
slowly  torn  limb  from  limb.  The  tortures  perpetrated 
upon  the  victim  of  the  untutored  savage  of  the  Ameri- 
can wilds  was  scarcely  a  comparison  to  the  blood- 
curdling horrors  perpetrated  upon  the  victims  of  these 
inhuman  monsters,  who  dared  to  call  themselves  men, 
civilized  and  religious.  The  mind  sickens  at  the  bare 
recital.  Through  the  agency  of  the  press  the  people 
were  informed  of  the  murderous  proceedings  carried  on 
by  their  despotic  rulers,  and  they  rose  in  their  power 
and  might,  and  for  a  time  a  reign  of  terror  ensued,  and 
the  soil  of  Europe  was  drenched  with  blood.  But, 
"  Truth  crushed  to  earth  will  rise  again."  It  cannot  be 
blotted  out  forever.  The  spread  of  printed  matter  now 
brought  mind  in  contact  with  mind,  and  rending  the 


THE    TRIUMPHS   OF  SCIENCE.  15 

dark  veils  of  bigotry,  ignorance  and  superstition,  flung 
open  the  portals  to  light,  truth  and  knowledge.  The 
press  became  the  great  motive  power  of  human  progress. 
All  that  was  known  in  the  arts  and  sciences  was  con- 
densed and  brought  before  the  world ;  and  the  reader 
or  philosopher  could  in  a  short  time  acquaint  himself 
with  the  logic  of  the  greatest  scholars  that  ever  lived. 
Theories  and  principles  that  had  been  discovered  only 
by  lives  of  patient  study  were  flung  abroad  on  the 
printed  page,  and  the  work  of  a  lifetime  grasped  and 
retained  by  a  million  minds  in  a  single  season.  To 
these  were  added  their  own  theories  and  speculations, 
and  the  world  moved  on  from  discovery  to  discovery  — 
from  darkness  to  light  and  truth.  America  was  dis- 
covered, the  bloody  Inquisition  swept  away,  the  art  of 
navigation  extended,  and  a  thousand  inventions  studied 
out.  The  press  became  the  potent  power  to  link  to- 
gether mind  and  Nature,  genius  and  enterprise ;  and 
the  civilized  world  seemed  to  leap  forward  almost 
miraculously  into  a  higher  and  nobler  state  of  ex- 
istence. With  the  invention  of  the  telescope  a  new 
impulse  was  given  to  astronomy.  The  old  Ptole- 
maic theory  fell  to  the  ground ;  and  the  truths  of 
Copernicus,  and  Kepler,  and  Tycho  Brahe,  and  Galileo 
were  demonstrated  before  a  hitherto  unbelieving  world. 
The  moon  was  seen  with  its  rugged  mountains  and 
towering  precipices,  coursing  round  the  earth  ;  Saturn 
with  its  brilliant  rings,  Jupiter  with  its  belts  and  re- 
splendent moons,  and  Venus,  the  queen  of  the  stars, 
traveling  round  the  sun.  The  fiery  comet  was  seen  to 
dash  in  among  them,  and  quickly  pass  away  again  on 
its  appointed  course,  paling  from  sight  in  the  dim  and 
unknown  distance,  to  reappear  again  only  after  years 
and  centuries  had  passed  away.  Countless  millions  of 


j6  THE    TRIUMPHS   OF  SCIENCE. 

worlds  appeared  in  the  blue  concave  overhead.  And 
yet  this  was  but  a  fragment  of  Nature.  The  sublime 
scenery  of  the  heavens  impressed  the  mind  of  man 
with  a  feeling  of  wonder,  astonishment  and  awe.  He 
viewed  the  mighty  power  of  God,  and  hesitated  not  to 
exclaim,  "  An  undevout  astronomer  must  be  mad !  " 

About  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
two  children  of  a  spectacle-maker  were  one  day  play- 
ing in  their  father's  workshop,  at  Middleburgh,  in  Hol- 
land. Picking  up  two  spectacle  glasses  and  placing 
one  before  the  other  at  a  little  distance  apart,  they 
observed  by  looking  through  them  both  that  objects 
appeared  inverted,  drawn  near  by,  and  greatly  in- 
creased in  size.  Their  father  noticed  their  simple  ex- 
periment with  interest ;  and  fixing  two  movable  glasses 
on  a  strip  of  board,  prepared  a  rude  instrument  for 
himself.  People  flocked  in  and  amused  themselves  by 
viewing  distant  objects  through  this  new  contrivance. 
Their  curiosity  was  awakened;  and  this  rude  instru- 
ment furnished  the  ideas  and  paved  the  way  for  the 
invention  of  the  telescope  by  Galileo  in  1609. 
.  The  first  instrument  of  Galileo's  was  made  by  en- 
closing in  a  tube  two  spectacle  glasses,  plain  upon  one 
side,  while  upon  the  other  one  was  spherically  convex 
and  the  other  concave.  Applying  his  eye  to  the  convex 
glass  he  beheld  objects  appearing  three  times  nearer 
and  nine  times  larger  than  to  the  unassisted  eye. 
Shortly  afterward  he  made  another,  which  gave  ob- 
jects the  appearance  of  being  sixty  times  larger;  and 
ultimately  he  constructed  one  which  caused  objects  to 
appear  thirty  times  nearer  and  a  thousand  times  larger. 

His  discoveries  in  the  heavens  spread  rapidly,  and 
caused  intense  excitement  throughout  all  Italy.  Coper- 
nicus had  been  denounced  as  a  teacher  of  false  doc- 


THE    TRIUMPHS   OF  SCIENCE.  l  ^ 

trine.  Galileo  proved  his  theory  correct.  In  other 
words,  he  declared  that  the  sun  was  the  center  of  the 
solar  system  ;  that  the  planets  shone  only  by  the  re- 
flected light  of  the  sun ;  and  that  the  world  turned  on 
its  axis.  This  brought  him  in  direct  conflict  with  the 
teachings  of  the  learned  men  of  the  age,  who  defended 
the  Ptolemaic  doctrine,  asserting  that  the  earth  was  the 
center  of  the  universe,  around  which  the  sun,  moon 
and  stars  daily  revolved.  They  hesitated  not  in  de- 
claring Galileo  a  false  and  deluded  teacher  —  a  lying 
heretic.  They  would  not  renounce  their  teachings  for 
this  one  scientific  reformer,  and  they  caused  him  to  be 
arrested  and  brought  before  the  Inquisition,  that  ter- 
rible tribunal  where,  in  the  name  of  justice  and  even 
holy  religion,  men  where  placed  upon  the  cruel  rack  or 
engines  of  torture  and  inhumanly  torn  and  mangled  and 
murdered.  Galileo  bore  his  part  well ;  but  he  was  an 
old  man  and  he  could  not  die  thus.  Kneeling  upon 
the  crucifix,  with  one  hand  on  the  Bible,  he  was  forced 
to  renounce  all.  But  as  he  arose  he  could  not  help 
whispering  to  one  of  his  attendants,  "The  earth  does 
move,  for  all  that!  " 

Bigotry  and  ignorance  could  not  quench  the  fires  of 
truth  and  true  discovery.  The  worthy  senators  met  in 
Venice,  and  Galileo  was  invited  to  bring  his  instrument 
and  prove  his  theories  there.  He  took  his  best  tele- 
scope and  erected  it  upon  the  summit  of  the  tower  of 
St.  Mark.  It  was  a  cloudless  night.  Jupiter,  Venus, 
and  the  crescent  moon  shone  brilliantly  in  the  clear 
blue  sky.  The  old  astronomer  was  filled  with  joy.  It 
was  just  such  a  night  as  he  had  anxiously  hoped  and 
prayed  for.  The  senators  gathered  around  him,  and 
one  after  another  gazed  upon  the  sublime  scenery  of 
the  heavens.  Taking  advantage  of  the  situation,  he 


jg  THE    TRIUMPHS   OF  SCIENCE. 

stepped  forward  and  delivered  a  long  lecture,  in  plain 
language  setting  forth  the  truths  of  his  long  cherished 
theory.  With  their  own  eyes  they  had  beheld  the 
wonders  the  telescope  revealed,  and  they  listened  to 
the  words  of  the  great  astronomer  with  attention. 
That  night  carried  conviction  to  the  minds  of  the 
leading  men  of  Venice.  That  night  established  the 
truth  of  the  Copernican  theory.  That  night  was  fatal 
to  the  system  of  the  ancient  schools. 

The  science  of  electricity  is  at  present  but  very 
little  known ;  and  what  astounding  discoveries  in  this 
important  branch  await  the  future  world  we  know  not ; 
though  with  such  a  universally  diffused,  all-powerful 
element,  we  can  scarcely  be  extravagant  in  our  imagi- 
nation. It  will  probably  account  for  a  great  share  of 
the  wonderful  feats  of  jugglers  and  showmen ;  it  may 
unveil  the  mysteries  of  so-called  spiritualism,  which  the 
very  mediums  themselves  declare  they  do  not  under- 
stand; with  its  magnetic  influence  it  fixes  the  seal  of 
love  upon  the  youthful  brow,  and  draws  heart  to  heart 
in  fond  affection  ;  by  its  mesmeric  power  the  door  of 
the  mind  is  opened  to  the  brain  of  another;  and  as  it 
is  everywhere  presented  it  may  be  used  in  the  future  as 
a  means  of  communication  the  world  over;  and  who 
knows  but  that  the  time  may  come  when  we  shall  not 
need  wires,  when  mind  can  communicate  with  mind  a 
thousand  miles  away,  by  means  of  this  all-pervading 
medium  ;  when  even  the  thoughts  of  mankind  will  be 
known,  and  such  a  thing  as  a  secret  cannot  be  kept. 

Benjamin  Franklin  was  the  first  to  demonstrate  to 
the  world  that  electricity  and  lightning  were  one  and 
the  same.  While  at  Philadelphia,  in  1752,  he  con- 
structed a  kite  of  a  silk  handkerchief,  and  fixing  a 
bright,  pointed  wire  upon  the  top,  prepared  for  a  bold 


THE    TRIUMPHS   OF  SCIENCE.  l^ 

experiment.  A  thunder-storm  appearing,  Franklin 
brought  out  his  kite  and  let  it  rise  to  a  great  height. 
He  now  tied  a  key  to  the  lower  end  of  the  string,  and 
to  this  he  attached  a  silk  ribbon  which  he  fastened  to 
a  post  and  awaited  the  result.  After  some  time  the 
string  appeared  as  though  it  were  excited  by  electricity  ; 
and  as  he  gently  touched  the  key  with  his  knuckle  he 
received  a  slight  electric  shock.  The  rain  now  began  to 
fall ;  and  the  string  becoming  wet,  bright  sparks  flashed 
in  profusion  from  the  key.  It  was  an  hour  of  pride  to 
Benjamin  Franklin.  He  was  a  discoverer;  and  the 
light  that  he  in  after  years  threw  on  this  great  branch 
of  science  made  his  name  justly  famous ;  for  it  ulti- 
mately led  to  the  invention  of  the  electric  telegraph. 

The  smallest  inventions  sometimes  pave  the  way  to 
the  greatest  discoveries.  Particularly  is  this  the  case 
with  the  mariner's  compass.  It  is  but  a  minute  nautical 
instrument,  working  upon  a  simple  law  of  nature ;  and 
yet  it  has  done  more  for  man  than  all  the  combined 
armies  that  have  ever  been  raised  on  earth.  A  thou- 
sand years  ago,  navigation  was  conducted  by  the  aid  of 
sight  alone,  and  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  were  man's 
only  guide.  The  boldest  mariner  rarely  dared  venture 
far  beyond  the  sight  of  land,  for  the  heavens  were  at 
any  time  liable  to  be  overcast  with  clouds  for  days 
together,  and  then,  without  any  guide  by  which  to  di- 
rect his  course,  he  would  be  utterly  lost  upon  the  track- 
less deep.  Hence  it  was  confined  to  very  narrow  limits, 
and  the  passage  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea  was  looked 
upon  as  a  great  undertaking. 

Europe,  Asia  and  Africa,  with  a  few  adjacent  islands, 
constituted  the  whole  known  world.  The  circumnav- 
igation of  Africa  by  Necho,  and  the  voyages  along 
its  shores  by  Sataspes  and  Hanno,  were  reckoned  by 


2Q  THE   TRIUMPHS   OF  SCIENCE. 

the  ancients  as  among  the  greatest  voyages  of  discovery 
ever  attempted  by  man.  And,  indeed,  at  that  time  they 
were  ;  but  with  the  discoveries  in  magnetism  and  its 
application  in  the  invention  of  the  mariner's  compass, 
a  new  aspect  was  given  to  navigation,  and  new  pages 
recorded  in  the  geography  of  the  world. 

The  loadstone,  which  is  an  ore  of  iron  of  a  dark 
color  found  in  various  parts  of  the  world,  is  a  natural 
magnet.  If  needles  or  small  bits  of  iron  be  brought  near 
it,  it  will  draw  them  instantly  to  its  surface,  and  hold 
them  there  by  its  own  power  of  attraction.  If  a  piece 
be  fastened  to  a  cork  floating  upon  the  surface  of  a 
basin  of  water,  it  will  in  a  short  time  settle  in  a  north 
and  south  direction ;  and,  indeed,  at  the  time  of  its 
introduction  into  Europe,  about  the  middle  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  it  was  all  there  was  of  the  mariner's 
compass.  Even  this  rude  instrument  was  an  unerring 
guide,  and  the  mariner  boldly  put  out  to  sea,  hundreds 
of  miles  from  land,  without  fear.  The  inventor  of  this 
valuable  instrument  is  unknown,  though  the  Chinese 
claim  the  honor  of  the  discovery. 

A  few  years  since  all  the  cities  in  the  world  were 
nightly  buried  in  darkness,  excepting,  however,  a  little 
spot  now  and  then,  where  an  oil  lamp  or  dingy  lantern 
cast  its  feeble  rays.  Illuminating  gas  was  first  made  in 
England  by  Dr.  Clayton,  in  1739.  He  filled  bladders 
with  it  and  burned  it  like  a  candle  for  the  amusement 
of  his  friends  ;  and  although  he  might  have  speculated 
upon  the  benefits  following  its  application,  he  failed  in 
bringing  its  notice  before  the  people  sufficiently  to  en- 
sure success.  They  did  not  understand  the  use  and  ben- 
efit the  new  discovery  might  confer  upon  the  city.  They 
did  not  realize  that  its  intensely  brilliant  flame  was  to 
illuminate  every  street  and  narrow  alley,  and  turn  dark- 


THE   TRIUMPHS  OF  SCIENCE.  2I 

ness  into  day ;  and  for  sixty  years  this  important  inven- 
tion was  neglected. 

A  new  advocate  now  came  forward.  This  was  Mr. 
Murdock,  who  was  soon  to  display  its  merits  to  the 
world.  Its  first  application  was  in  1792,  in  lighting  his 
offices  and  residence  in  Cornwall.  In  1798  he  lighted 
the  extensive  machine  shops  of  Watt  and  Boulton,  near 
Birmingham.  At  the  peace  of  Amiens,  in  1802,  there 
was  a  general  rejoicing  all  over  England  ;  and  when  the 
sun  had  set,  and  the  sable  curtain  of  night  had  been 
spread,  a  grand  coal-gas  illumination  was  to  be  made  in 
one  of  the  principal  streets  of  Soho,  near  Birmingham. 
The  lights  were  disposed  in  hundreds  of  beautiful 
forms, —  in  clusters,  crosses  and  crescents, — and  thou- 
sands from  Birmingham  came  out  to  witness  the  daz- 
zling display.  That  night  carried  the  worth  of  the 
discovery  to  a  believing  people,  and  its  useful  appli- 
cation was  thenceforward  rapid. 

Gunpowder  was  discovered  by  Schwartz,  a  German 
monk,  while  engaged  in  the  study  of  alchemy,  search- 
ing for  the  "  philosopher's  stone,"  and  the  "water  of 
life,"  in  the  early  part  of  the  fourteenth  century.  It 
consists  of  a  mixture  of  seventy-four  parts  of  nitre,  ten 
parts  of  sulphur,  and  sixteen  parts  of  charcoal,  by 
weight.  The  ingredients  are  carefully  mixed,  ground 
in  water,  pressed,  and  broken,  and  then  passed  through 
sieves,  which  give  it  the  form  of  grains.  Its  greatest 
benefit  to  man  is  in  blasting  rocks  on  the  surface  and 
in  the  mines.  In  war  it  is  the  most  powerful  agent  of 
destruction  ;  sending  with  unerring  precision  from  the 
cannon's  mouth  the  ponderous  ball,  to  tear  down  solid 
walls  of  stone  and  rend  asunder  the  stout  oaken  tim- 
ber of  vessels ;  and  by  its  aid  the  murderous  shell  is 
hurled,  to  mangle  mankind  and  send  them  to  an  un- 


22  THE   TRIUMPHS  OF  SCIENCE. 

timely  grave.  It  has  taken  the  place  of  the  spear  and 
battle-axe,  the  lance  and  the  knife,  and  though  there  is 
no  humanity  in  war,  it  is  not  so  bad  as  it  used  to  be. 
Let  us  hope  the  time  is  near  at  hand  when  the  world 
shall  learn  the  folly  of  war,  and  turn  to  the  paths  of 
wisdom,  peace  and  progress.  Its  explosive  force  has 
been  calculated  at  about  fifteen  thousand  pounds  upon 
the  square  inch  confining  it 

Through  the  work  of  the  rising  generation  we  look 
forward  to  great  inventions  in  the  future.  People  will 
study,  reflect,  and  learn  ;  and  depend  upon  it,  the  spirit 
of  true  progression  will  never  flag.  The  desire  for 
knowledge  is  on  the  increase ;  and  step  by  step  scien- 
tific progress  is  moving  forward.  A  hundred  years  ago 
the  bare  thought  of  a  steam  engine  had  scarcely  found 
a  place  in  the  brain  of  man.  Who  had  dreamed  of  the 
electric  telegraph,  the  mowing  machine,  the  sewing  ma- 
chine, and  the  ten  thousand  other  great  inventions  that 
crowd  the  page  of  discoveries  of  the  nineteenth  century  ? 
No  one.  The  age  of  genius,  enterprise  and  learning 
had  not  developed  itself.  Great  minds  have  studied, 
thought,  and  reasoned  all  their  lives  to  bring  about 
the  present  state  of  human  knowledge,  and  now  they 
arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  they  are  taking  the  first 
step  upon  the  ladder  of  progress,  and  that  they  have 
barely  learned  the  A  B  C  of  science. 

Geology,  what  do  we  know  of  it?  In  the  time  to 
come,  if  studied  in  the  right  direction  and  wTith  the 
right  spirit,  what  hidden  treasures  may  it  not  reveal ! 
These  native  hills  and  valleys  are  literally  filled  with 
minerals ;  whether  worthless  or  not  the  meditation  and 
brain-work  of  the  future  must  bring  to  light  Astron- 
omy, what  do  we  know  of  it  ?  That  our  world  when 
compared  with  the  innumerable  host  that  course 


THE   TRIUMPHS   OF  SCIENCE.  23 

through  the  firmament  of  heaven  is  but  a  grain  of  sand 
upon  the  seashore.  What  is  their  number?  Are  they 
inhabited  ?  What  are  their  destinies  ?  We  await  the 
answer  of  the  learned  minds  of  the  future.  Chemistry, 
what  do  we  know  of  it?  Just  the  bare  introduction. 
And  even  now  by  its  agency  we  can  cause  water  to 
burn  like  wood  or  coal.  What  wonders  may  we  not 
expect  future  generations  to  astonish  the  world  with,  in 
respect  to  this  great  science  !  The  principles  of  Natural 
Philosophy,  what  do  we  know  of  them  ?  Scarcely  the 
ABC.  It  is  true  we  have  great  power-looms,  steam 
presses,  steam  engines,  and  we  navigate  the  air  in 
balloons ;  but  what  are  these  in  comparison  to  the 
great  hidden  powers  contained  in  this  branch  of  science, 
and  which  energetic  minds  are  yet  to  work  out  ?  Elec- 
tricity, what  do  we  know  of  it?  Scarcely  anything.  It 
is  true  we  have  spanned  the  ocean  with  the  electric 
telegraph,  and  performed  a  few  more  little  wonders,  and 
it  is  said  we  have  advanced  science  so  far  that  we 
handle  the  lightning.  But  what  is  this  ?  Go  to  where 
the  great  oak,  four  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base  and  with 
a  hundred  spreading  branches,  has  been  struck  by  a  bolt 
from  the  storm-cloud  and  shivered  to  splinters.  There 
is  a  mighty  power  here,  and  before  it  steam  and  gun- 
powder pass  into  comparative  insignificance.  It  per- 
vades all  nature.  It  invisibly  surrounds  us  every  day 
of  our  lives.  It  courses  through  every  part  of  our  bodies. 
Without  it  we  die.  Who  is  going  to  bring  this  great 
power  to  light  ?  Who  is  going  to  handle  it  ?  Who  is  going 
to  utilize  it  ?  Ask  the  generation  yet  to  be.  Magnetism, 
spiritualism,  the  mind,  the  eternal  soul,  what  do  we 
know  of  them  ?  Again  comes  the  answer  that  our 
knowledge  in  this  quarter  is  almost  imperceptible.  Who 
is  going  to  solve  the  dark  mystery  ?  Who  is  going  to 


24  SCEWES  IN   THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 

draw  the  veil  aside  and  let  in  the  glorious  blaze  of  light 
and  truth,  like  a  mighty  revelation,  from  the  portals  of 
heaven  ?  No  one  answers.  Let  the  millions  yet  unborn 
work  out  the  mighty  problem. 


SCENES  IN  THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 

VERY  section  of  the  globe  furnishes  a  world  of 
thought  and  speculation  for  the  contemplative 
mind  of  the  naturalist.  To  the  student  of  na- 
ture there  is  not  an  uninteresting  spot  on  earth. 
Man  was  created  with  a  desire  for  discovery ;  and 
within  the  secret  avenues  of  every  thinking  brain 
there  is  a  constant  longing  to  know  more  —  to 
behold  the  natural  beauties  of  creation,  the  wonders 
and  sublimities  that  bear  upon  their  faces  imposing 
evidence  of  the  almighty  power  of  God — and  he  is 
always  reaching  out,  and  striving  to  enter  new  fields 
of  observation,  where  new  and  hitherto  unheard  of 
rays  of  truth  and  knowledge  blaze  forth  in  effulgence, 
to  illumine  his  understanding  and  enlighten  the  world. 
The  wisest  and  best  informed  of  the  ancient  Greeks 
and  Romans  had  very  vague  ideas  of  those  regions  of 
the  earth  which  lay  far  from  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Mediterranean,  the  Euxine,  the  Red  Sea  and  the  Eu- 
phrates. The  half-mythical  adventures  of  the  Argo- 
nauts have  most  likely  a  real  foundation  in  fact ;  but 
the  utmost  limit  of  their  piratical  voyage  was  the  north- 


AMONG   THE    ICEBERGS. 


2  6  SCENES  IN   THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 

eastern  extremity  of  what  we  now  call  the  Black  Sea ; 
so  that  they  could  not  have  gone  further  north  than 
about  to  the  parallel  of  40°  N.  But  they,  and  those 
who  sailed  thither  after  them,  brought  back  strange 
reports  of  a  people  who  dwelt  much  further  north, 
whom  they  called  Hyperboreans,  "  Dwellers  beyond  the 
North  Wind."  According  to  some  accounts,  they  lived 
in  a  land  of  perpetual  sunshine.  Other  accounts  made 
their  land  one  of  almost  perpetual  darkness.  Putting 
both  accounts  together,  we  have  what  was  really  the 
truth:  that  their  year  consisted  of  a  day  and  a  night, 
each  lasting  for  some  six  months.  This  theory  was 
incredible  to  Herodotus,  who,  in  his  wide  travels,  had 
never  seen  any  such  thing.  He  could  not  believe  that 
there  were  people  who  slept  six  months  at  a  stretch, 
and  then  kept  awake  for  another  six  months. 

The  Phoenicians  were  the  most  adventurous  voy- 
agers of  the  early  ages.  Centuries  before  Christ  they 
had  established  trading  posts  upon  the  African  and 
European  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean,  whence  they 
made  voyages  far  to  the  north.  They  traded  with 
what  they  called  the  Cassiterides,  or  "  Tin  Islands," 
which  probably  meant  the  southern  end  of  Great 
Britain,  and  the  adjacent  islets,  whence  they  brought 
back  stores  of  that  metal,  which  entered  largely  into 
the  composition  of  the  bronze  which  answered  many 
of  the  purposes  for  which  we  now  use  steel.  They 
were  very  careful  not  to  let  the  rest  of  the  world  know 
where  were  the  regions  with  which  they  carried  on  so 
lucrative  a  traffic. 

In  time  the  Greeks  came  in  for  a  share  in  the  hon- 
ors of  voyaging  and  the  profits  of  trade  with  distant 
regions.  Pytheas,  a  Hellenic  navigator,  dwelt  at  Mar- 
seilles, somewhere  about  the  time  of  Alexander  the 


IN   THE  POLAR  REGIONS.  2J 

Great  or  his  immediate  successors  —  say  about  300  B.C. 
He  made  at  least  two  long  voyages  to  the  far  north,  of 
which  he  wrote  accounts,  fragments  of  which  have  been 
preserved  by  later  writers.  He  appears  to  have  sailed 
along  the  western  and  northern  coasts  of  Europe.  In 
one  of  his  voyages  he  sighted  a  country  which  he  styles 
Thule,  which  was  most  probably  Iceland,  though  some 
have  tried  to  identify  it  with  Norway  or  even  with  Jut- 
land, in  Denmark.  Some  of  his  reports  seemed  quite 
incredible  to  men  of  southern  Europe.  Thus,  he  says, 
that  after  sailing  six  days  beyond  Thule,  into  an  un- 
known sea,  he  found  that  daylight  did  not  wholly  disap- 
pear at  any  time  during  the  twenty-four  hours.  Soon 
after,  his  progress  was  impeded  by  a  strange  condition 
of  the  ocean,  which  seemed  to  be  "  neither  water,  land 
nor  air,  but  a  mixture  of  all  three ;  the  water  being  so 
viscid  that  the  vessel  could  not  make  its  way  through 
it."  To  us  of  this  day  the  matter  is  clear  enough.  He 
had  encountered  the  edge  of  a  floe  of  "  field-ice."  Wise 
geographers  of  after  centuries  —  such  as  Strabo  and 
Polybius  —  set  down  Pytheas  as  an  arrant  liar,  and 
spoke  of  him  much  as  we  speak  of  Baron  Munchausen. 
But  the  extant  fragments  of  his  narratives  show  him  to 
have  been  not  only  a  bold  navigator,  but  a  keen  and 
sagacious  observer.  He  was,  as  far  as  appears,  the  first 
man  who  determined  the  latitude  of  a  place  by  means 
of  the  shadow  cast  by  the  sun ;  and  he  was  also  quite 
aware  of  the  preponderating  influence  of  the  moon 
upon  the  tides. 

Most  of  the  early  navigators  added  piracy  to  their 
other  avocations.  Homer  speaks  of  the  Phoenician 
voyagers  as  being  wont  to  "  do  all  manner  of  injury  to 
man."  The  stern  rule  of  the  Romans  put  a  check  to 
these  marauding  voyages.  If  the  Romans  plundered 


28  SCENES   IN    THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 

the  regions  which  they  subdued,  they  endeavored  to 
put  down  plundering  on  the  part  of  others.  When  the 
Roman  Empire  went  down,  piracy  revived.  The  nar- 
row seas  and  navigable  waters  of  Europe  became  so 
many  highways  for  the  Northern  Vikings,  or  sea-rob- 
bers. When,  after  a  weary  interval  of  a  thousand 
years,  civil  society  began  to  be  reestablished,  the  spirit 
of  voyaging  for  trade  and  discovery  was  again  aroused. 
The  voyages  of  Columbus  were  at  once  the  cause  and 
the  effect  of  this.  His  first  expedition  had  for  its  im- 
mediate object  the  finding  of  a  direct  passage  by  sea 
for  the  trade  between  Europe  and  the  Indies;  and 
when  it  was  found  that  a  vast  continent  lay  straight 
across  the  direct  route  men  began  to  hope  that  a 
passage  might  be  found  around  it.  It  was  assumed 
that  the  northern  extremity  of  America,  like  the  south- 
ern, terminated,  at  no  very  high  latitude,  in  a  point  or 
cape,  and  that  by  sailing  around  this  the  mariner  could 
enter  the  Pacific,  and  thence  make  his  way  to  India  by 
a  route  shorter  than  those  around  Cape  Horn  and  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope.  To  the  English  and  the  Dutch 
such  a  passage  would  be  of  great  advantage ;  for  Spain, 
then  in  the  height  of  her  power,  monopolized  the  trade 
by  the  other  routes,  and  made  short  work  with  all  others 
who  intruded  upon  the  lands  and  the  waters  which  she 
claimed  as  her  exclusive  possession. 

If  man  was  always  perfectly  contented  with  his  lot 
and  condition  he  would  always  remain  the  same  ;  the 
progressive  spirit  that  rules  the  age  arouses  his  ambi- 
tion and  leads  him  on  through  patient  toil  and  investi- 
gation, to  higher  and  nobler  achievements.  Hence, 
even  a  discontented  mind,  though  it  has  ruined  thou- 
sands by  leading  them  in  pursuit  of  objects  they  never 
attained,  is,  after  all,  the  potent  lever  that  is  raising  the 


SCENES  IN   THE   POLAR  REGIONS.  29 

world  higher  and  higher  up  the  sublime  hill  of  science 
every  day. 

It  was  the  discontented  mind  of  James  Watt  that 
built  the  steam  engine ;  and  of  George  Stephenson 
that  improved  and  applied  it  to  the  railway.  They 
were  not  satisfied  with  what  their  predecessors  had 
done;  they  believed  they  could  make  an  improvement; 
they  studied  long  and  earnestly;  they  reached  ahead; 
they  took  the  step,  and  the  world  knows  the  result. 
It  was  the  discontented  mind  of  Christopher  Colum- 
bus that  led  him  on  to  the  discovery  of  the  New 
World.  After  mature  deliberation,  and  years  of  in- 
tense thought  and  study,  he  rejected  the  theories  of 
the  learned  men  of  his  time  and  sailed  away  to  estab- 
lish the  enduring  truth  of  his  own.  It  was  the  dis- 
contented minds  of  Ross,  and  Franklin,  and  Kane, 
that  led  them  to  defy  the  storms  and  severities  of 
the  Arctic  winter,  and  face  the  dangers  of  the  frozen 
Polar  seas  in  their  attempt  of  the  northwest  passage 
and  exploration  of  the  northern  regions. 

Tropical  explorations  have  revealed  to  us  the 
tangled  jungles  and  immense  masses  of  luxuriant  vege- 
tation, the  dark-visaged  savage  and  indolent  native; 
the  hissing  serpent  and  loathsome  reptile,  and  the 
fierce  and  blood-thirsty  beasts  of  prey,  that  prowl 
through  the  infested  forests  of  the  torrid  zone.  Ex- 
plorations in  the  Polar  regions  have  revealed  to  us  scenes 
in  strange  and  astonishing  contrast.  And  yet  the 
hand  of  God  is  displayed  in  the  Arctic  regions  fully 
as  much  as  it  is  in  the  Tropics.  Animated  life  in  these 
regions  are  by  nature's  wise  provision  fitted  and  pre- 
pared for  the  rigorous  climate  by  warm  coats  of  fur ; 
and  they  could  not  exist  for  an  hour  beneath  the  burn- 
ing sun  of  the  equator.  Animals  from  the  tropical 


30  SCENES  IN  THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 

regions  transported  hither,  with  only  their  thin  cover- 
ing of  coarse  hair,  would  perish  at  once,  and  be  frozen 
to  an  adamantine  mass  in  less  than  a  single  day.  Ani- 
mals are  not  as  numerous  or  ferocious  here  as  they  are 
in  warm  climates,  but  the  reindeer,  seal,  walrus,  white 
bear,  etc.,  abound,  and  the  sable  and  marten  leap 
through  the  forests  with  all  the  vivacity  of  the  weasel 
and  nimble  squirrel  of  the  temperate  zone. 

About  the  first  of  February  the  edge  of  the  sun 
is  discovered  peering  above  the  horizon  at  some  low 
point  between  rugged  hills  of  ice  and  rock.  A  few 
minutes  only  is  it  visible,  and  then  having  passed  across 
the  narrow  valley,  is  hid  from  view  behind  the  inter- 
vening hill.  For  nearly  twenty-four  hours  it  sails  below 
the  horizon,  and  then  it  appears  a  little  higher  than 
before,  where  it  is  a  little  farther  across  the  valley,  and 
the  day  is  a  little  longer.  Gradually  it  rises  higher  and 
higher,  day  by  day,  like  the  thread  to  a  screw,  and  the 
days  become  an  hour  long,  then  two,  four,  eight,  fif- 
teen, twenty ;  and  then  the  sun  only  dips  below  the 
horizon  for  a  few  minutes,  where  some  tall  dark  moun- 
tain leans  against  it,  and  at  last  it  rises  above  all,  and 
rides  majestically  round  and  round,  and  for  weeks  there 
is  only  one  continual  day.  Having  reached  its  height, 
it  descends  in  the  same  manner  that  it  arose,  until  it  is 
only  seen  skimming  for  a  few  minutes  along  the  horizon, 
over  some  low  valley,  away  to  the  south,  and  about 
the  last  of  November  it  entirely  disappears  and 
the  long  Arctic  night  commences.  For  weary  months 
the  dark  night  is  unbroken  by  a  single  ray  of  sunlight ; 
and  during  this  time,  when  the  sky  is  not  overcast  with 
clouds,  the  moon  and  stars  shine  perpetual.  The  cold 
is  intense,  and  the  Aurora  Borealis  or  Northern  Lights 
flash  up  and  silently  pass  along  the  heavens,  and  flit 


SCENES  IN  THE  POLAR  REGIONS.          31 

and  glimmer  overhead,  combining  with  the  pale  light  of 
the  moon  to  cast  their  wandering  sickly  rays  upon  the 
reflecting  surfaces  of  the  snow  mountains  and  massive 
icebergs,  giving  an  apparent  slow  ghostly  motion  to  all, 
and  inspiring  the  Arctic  navigator  with  strange  emotion, 
akin  to  dread  and  terror. 

Among  all  the  different  expeditions  of  Arctic  naviga- 
tors, perhaps  none  were  more  fraught  with  peril  and 
adventure  than  those  of  Sir  John  Franklin.  In  com- 
pany with  several  well  educated  gentlemen,  he  left 
Gravesend,  England,  on  the  23d  of  May,  1819,  and  on 
the  3Oth  of  August  following,  reached  York  Factory, 
the  principal  depot  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company. 
Having  made  all  necessary  preparations,  the  expedition 
started  on  their  long  river  journey  into  the  interior 
wilderness,  on  the  9th  of  September.  For  forty-four 
days  they  continued  on  their  eventful  journey,  occa- 
sionally meeting  with  wolves  and  other  northern  animals, 
and  on  the  22?  of  October  they  reached  Cumberland 
House,  having  traveled  six  hundred  and  ninety  miles. 
On  the  1 8th  of  January,  1820,  he  set  out  for  Fort 
Chepewyan,  in  the  Athabasca  region,  eight  hundred  and 
fifty-seven  miles  beyond.  The  whole  distance  lay 
through  a  wild  barren  wilderness,  almost  wholly  unin- 
habited, desolate,  and  inhospitable.  The  snow  lay 
deep  upon  the  ground,  and  the  cold  wintry  blasts 
swept  over  the  plains  and  bleak  hillsides  with  unresist- 
ing fury.  Tracts  of  pine  forests  which  they  passed 
now  and  then,  roared  and  wailed  in  the  grasp  of  the 
heavy  gale ;  the  wind  whistled,  and  the  snow  sifted 
down  upon  them  so  fast  that  it  appeared  almost  dark 
and  foggy  in  the  thick  woods,  reminding  them  at  times 
of  the  Alpine  storms  around  the  great  St.  Bernard,  and 
recalling  to  their  minds  the  old  stories  they  had  heard 


22  SCENES  IN   THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 

and  read  about  the  saving  of  lost  and  perishing  travel- 
ers by  the  pious  monks  of  the  convent  and  their  noble 
dogs.  With  the  passage  of  the  storm  the  sun  would 
come  forth,  but  its  rays  were  cold  and  feeble,  particles 
of  frost  filled  the  air,  rendering  the  sky  of  a  dull,  hazy 
color,  and  great  fleecy  clouds  flew  swiftly  overhead  in 
the  roaring  gale.  All  day  long  the  little  party  of  hardy 
explorers  would  toil  through  the  snow,  part  of  the  time 
on  foot  and  part  of  the  time  seated  in  their  sledges, 
wrapped  in  furs,  and  drawn  briskly  over  the  smooth 
surface  by  their  faithful  dogs.  At  night  a  warm  or 
sheltered  place  was  selected  for  a  camp,  usually  in  the 
thick  forest,  the  snow  was  scraped  from  the  ground, 
wood  collected  and  a  fire  built,  a  pile  of  pine  branches 
cut  and  placed  before  it  for  a  bed,  the  dogs  were 
unharnessed  from  the  sledges,  supper  cooked,  the  pro- 
visions hung  on  the  trees  near  by,  where  the  wolves 
could  not  reach  them,  and  wrapping  themselves  in  their 
furs  and  blankets  they  threw  themselves  upon  their 
rude  couch  and  prepared  to  pass  the  night  comfortably, 
even  in  the  severest  weather.  In  a  little  more  than  two 
months  the  journey  was  completed,  and  they  arrived  at 
Fort  Chepewyan. 

In  the  spring  active  preparations  were  commenced 
for  the  advance  of  the  expedition,  and  on  the  i8th  of 
July  they  set  forth  for  Fort  Providence,  which  they 
reached  in  eleven  days.  On  the  2d  of  August  they  set 
out  for  the  mouth  of  the  Coppermine  river ;  but  after 
eighteen  days  of  hard  traveling  they  were  obliged  to 
establish  their  winter  quarters  at  Fort  Enterprise. 
Here  they  passed  the  long  cold  winter,  the  ground 
covered  deep  with  the  icy  mantle  and  the  branches  of 
the  trees  loaded  and  bent  with  snow.  It  was  feared 
that  their  provisions  and  ammunition  would  be 


34 


SCENES  IN   THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 


exhausted  before  the  long  winter  passed,  unless  some 
one  returned  for  more.  Mr.  Back,  one  of  the  most 
enterprising  members  of  the  expedition,  drew  on  his 
snow-shoes,  and  bidding  his  companions  be  of  good 
cheer,  set  out  for  Fort  Chepewyan.  He  was  gone 
nearly  five  months,  and  his  friends  long  believed  him 
lost.  No  wonder  his  return  was  hailed  with  joy,  for  he 
was  looked  upon  almost  as  one  resurrected  from  the 
grave.  He  had  passed  across  the  Great  Slave  Lake,  had 
traveled  over  one  thousand  one  hundred  miles  in  snow- 
shoes,  and  had  passed  the  cold  wintry  nights  in  the 
woods,  with  no  other  covering  than  his  blanket  and 
deer-skin.  His  companions  gathered  about  him,  eager 
to  hear  his  story,  and  many  weary  nights  he  entertained 
them  by  recounting  the  perils  and  adventures  of  the 
lonely  journey. 

It  was  the  i4th  of  June,  1821,  before  the  expedition 
was  again  on  the  move.  It  was  a  bright,  balmy  morn- 
ing as  they  set  forth  down  the  Coppermine,  and  the 
grass-covered  banks  and  slopes  were  lined  with  herds 
of  deer,  musk-oxen,  and  wolves.  At  the  end  of  a 
month's  journey  they  beheld  from  the  summit  of  a 

?sntle  eminence  the  sparkling  waters  of  the  open 
olar  Sea.  On  the  2ist  of  July  the  party  embarked 
in  two  birch-bark  canoes,  with  provisions  for  fifteen 
days.  Coasting  along  the  shore,  where  they  could 
procure  game  or  encamp  on  the  approach  of  bad 
weather,  they  proceeded  eastward  five  hundred  and 
fifty  miles,  when  the  approach  of  winter  admonished 
them  to  return.  It  was  the  i6th  of  August.  Naming 
the  place  Turnagain  Point,  they  took  their  last  look 
of  their  fartherest  exploration,  and  turned  their  faces 
upon  the  homeward  course. 

The  sufferings  and  hardships  they  had  experienced 


SCENES   IN   THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 


35 


were  as  nothing  when  compared  to  the  trials  that  now 
lay  before  them.  Proceeding  up  Hood's  River  they 
endeavored  to  shorten  their  route  to  Fort  Enterprise. 
Long  lines  of  black  ledges  lined  the  stream,  and  a  lit- 
tle farther  up,  the  entire  river  poured  over  an  immense 
precipice  of  rock,  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  height, 
with  a  roar  that  seemed  to  jar  the  ground.  Above 
this  cataract,  now  known  as  the  Wilberforce  Falls,  the 
stream  was  smaller,  rough  and  unfit  for  navigation,  and 
the  explorers  were  obliged  to  leave  their  canoes  and 
baggage  behind,  and  strike  out  on  foot  across  the  bar- 
ren wilderness  and  desolation.  It  was  now  the  3ist  of 
August.  They  had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance 
when  a  heavy  snow-storm  set  in,  and  winter  appeared 
commencing  in  earnest.  They  had  no  means  of  mak- 
ing a  fire,  and  the  weather  was  so  extremely  cold  they 
were  forced  to  remain  wrapped  up  in  their  rude  beds 
for  two  whole  days.  At  length  the  weather  moderated 
somewhat,  though  it  was  still  rough  and  boisterous,  and 
the  little  party  drew  their  furs  closely  around  them  and 
plodded  slowly  on  through  the  deep  snow  and  deeper 
drifts. 

A  new  terror  now  stared  them  in  the  face.  Their 
provisions  gave  out,  and  starvation  seemed  already 
whispering  a  doleful  dirge  in  their  ears.  Hardly  a  tree 
or  shrub  appeared  to  gladden  the  eye  or  furnish  mate- 
rial for  building  a  fire.  Cold  and  desolate  marshes, 
and  barren  rock-bound  hillsides,  along  which  the  wind 
rushed  impetuously,  bearing  clouds  of  light  snow  on 
its  raging  wings  and  hurling  it  into  ten  thousand  drifts, 
met  the  gaze  in  every  direction.  Almost  in  despair 
they  toiled  on  more  dead  than  alive. 

On  the  26th  of  September  they  reached  the  Cop- 
permine river.  The  stream  was  about'  one  hundred 


36  SCENES  IN   THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 

and  thirty  yards  wide,  and  the  farthest  search  re- 
vealed nothing  but  a  few  rude  willows  with  which  to 
construct  a  raft  to  cross.  For  some  time  they  were 
busy  binding  the  faggots  together,  and  when  they 
launched  their  intended  float  it  sank  nearly  to  the 
water's  edge,  and  without  oars  or  poles,  in  an  unfavor- 
able wind,  the  raft  was  useless.  Dr.  Richardson,  with 
almost  superhuman  energy,  tied  a  line  around  his  body, 
and  handing  it  to  his  friends,  plunged  boldly  into  the 
icy  current  and  endeavored  to  swim  across.  If  he  could 
gain  the  opposite  shore  the  frail  willow  craft  could  be 
hauled  back  and  forth  and  the  crossing  might  be  accom- 
plished. But  ere  he  had  reached  the  shore  his  limbs 
became  numb  and  powerless,  and  he  sank  helpless  in 
the  cold  water,  paralyzed  in  the  congealing  tide.  His 
comrades  hauled  him  quickly  ashore,  rolled  him  up  in 
warm  blankets  and  placed  him  before  a  slow  willow 
fire,  and  at  length  he  slowly  recovered.  His  effort  had 
been  a  failure,  and  had  nearly  cost  him  his  life. 

Their  sufferings  haci  become  terrible  in  the  extreme. 
For  several  days  they  had  had  nothing  to  eat  except  a 
few  unpalatable  lichens,  plucked  from  the  cold  soil  over 
some  frowning  precipice.  Haggard  and  woe-begone, 
they  staggered  about  like  gaunt  specters  or  living  skel- 
etons, endeavoring  with  their  little  remaining  strength, 
to  build  a  canoe  of  their  canvas  trappings.  The  sun 
just  skimmed  above  the  far  southern  horizon,  and  then 
sank  to  rest  after  shedding  for  a  short  time  its  cold 
leaden  rays,  and  the  long  dark  night  followed ;  the 
heavens,  studded  with  bright  stars  that  glittered  and 
twinkled  like  sparkling  diamonds  in  the  blue  concave 
above,  and  the  silver  moon,  riding  high,  seemed  to 
whisper  hope,  even  'yet,  to  the  famishing  explorers. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  ist  of  October,  one  of  the 


SCE.VES  IN   THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 


37 


men  staggered  in  with  the  antlers  and  back-bone  of  a 
deer,  which  had  died  or  been  killed,  probably  in  the 
summer.  To  the  starving  men  it  was  a  prize.  Captain 
Franklin  says,  "  the  wolves  and  birds  of  prey  had  picked 
them  clean,  but  there  still  remained  a  quantity  of  spinal 
marrow  which  they  had  not  been  able  to  extract.  This, 
although  putrid,  was  esteemed  a  valuable  prize,  and 
the  spine  being  divided  into  portions,  was  distributed 
equally.  After  eating  the  marrow,  which  was  so  acrid 
as  to  excoriate  the  lips,  they  rendered  the  bones  friable 
by  burning,  and  ate  them  also." 

Three  days  longer  (during  which  the  feeble  sufferers 
talked  almost  incessantly  of  the  pleasures  of  eating)  and 
the  canoe  was  finished.  The  passage  of  the  river  was 
accomplished  in  safety,  and  they  struck  with  rising 
spirits  for  Fort  Enterprise,  then  only  forty  miles  distant, 
where  Captain  Franklin  had  sent  back  men  on  his 
entering  the  Polar  Sea  to  await  his  return.  But^  their 
hilarity  did  not  last  them  long.  The  driving  snow  and 
keen,  frosty  air  seemed  to  pierce  the  very  marrow  of 
their  bones.  The  last  remains  of  their  old  worn-out 
shoes  and  scraps  of  leather  had  been  eaten,  and  again 
they  were  famishing  with  hunger.  In  despair  two  of 
their  number  sank  down  utterly  exhausted,  and  perished 
in  the  snow. 

At  length  they  came  to  a  spot  where  a  few  sickly 
lichens  grew,  and  here  a  portion  of  the  men  declared 
they  could  go  no  farther.  Franklin  and  seven  others 
pushed  on,  promising  assistance  as  soon  as  it  could  be 
obtained.  The  distance  was  now  twenty-four  miles,  and 
ere  he  reached  it  four  more  men  had  sank  exhausted  by 
the  wayside.  It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  nth  of 
October  that  the  captain  and  four  worn  and  weary  men 
staggered  up  to  the  fort.  With  the  exception  of  a 


2 8  SCENES  IN   THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 

single  meal  of  miserable  lichens,  not  a  morsel  of  food 
had  passed  their  lips  for  five  days.  Here,  at  last,  they 
expected  relief.  Imagine  their  feelings  when,  on  enter- 
ing the  fort,  they  found  it  silent,  desolate,  and  deserted  ! 
Mr.  Back,  who  had  preceded  them,  had  reached  the 
house  two  days  previously,  as  was  indicated  by  a  note 
which  he  had  left,  and  had  gone  in  pursuit  of  the 
Indians,  from  whom  he  hoped  to  obtain  assistance. 
With  faltering  steps  the  starving  party  proceeded  to 
collect  the  bones  and  skins  of  deer  that  had  been  killed 
at  the  time  of  their  residence  there  the  previous  winter, 
and  prepare  them  for  food.  The  bones  were  pounded, 
the  hair  singed  from  the  skins,  and  the  whole  boiled  to 
an  acrid  soup,  which  rendered  their  mouths  sore,  and 
sickened  them  to  a  sad  degree.  Day  by  day  it  sus- 
tained their  lives ;  it  was  their  only  food.  What  will 
not  man  resort  to,  to  satisfy  the  pangs  of  hunger  in  the 
last  stages  of  starvation !  For  eighteen  days  they 
lived  thus,  and  no  relief  came.  On  the  evening  of  the 
29th,  as  they  sat  around  the  fire  trying  to  look  on  the 
bright  side  of  their  now  almost  helpless  situation,  Dr. 
Richardson  and  Hepburn,  whom  they  had  left  in  an 
exhausted  state  some  three  weeks  before,  entered  —  in 
amazement  they  gazed  upon  each  other.  Hepburn  had 
just  killed  a  partridge.  The  doctor  seized  it,  tore  out 
the  feathers,  held  it  for  a  few  moments  before  the  fire, 
and  divided  it  among  the  men.  Like  hungry  wolves 
they  ravenously  devoured  it;  for  it  was  the  first  morsel 
of  decent  flesh  they  had  tasted  for  thirty-one  days. 
Richardson  and  Hepburn  had  a  tragic  story  to  tell, 
which  we  will  not  attempt  to  lay  before  the  reader. 
Neither  will  we  attempt  to  portray  the  suffering  and 
misery  that  followed.  Reduced  as  they  were,  they 
became  still  more  so.  They  moved  about  like  grim, 


SCENES  IN   THE  POLAR  REGIONS. 


39 


melancholy  specters,  hollow-eyed  and  almost  fearful  to 
look  upon.  Their  voices  became  hoarse,  husky,  and 
hollow,  scarcely  above  a  whisper,  and  one  after  another 
they  sank  to  rise  no  more.  At  length,  on  the  7th  of 
November,  the  long-looked-for  aid  arrived.  Three 
Indians  came  loaded  with  provisions,  and  the  little 
band,  almost  on  the  verge  of  the  grave,  was  saved. 
Perhaps  no  more  touching  scene  was  ever  witnessed 
than  that  of  the  starving  survivors,  with  streaming 
eyes,  offering  up  their  prayer  of  thanksgiving  for  their 
timely  deliverance. 

After  having  become  sufficiently  recruited,  they  pro- 
ceeded on  their  homeward  journey.  At  length  they 
reached  the  coast  and  sailed  for  England,  where  they 
arrived  in  October,  1822.  Thus  terminated  the  first 
journey  of  Dr.  Franklin.  He  was  born  an  explorer. 
The  perils  he  had  experienced  did  not  deter  him.  He 
sailed  again,  and  again  beheld  the  icy  regions  of  the 
north.  His  enthusiasm  finally  carried  him  too  far,  and 
he  came  back  no  more.  Experienced  navigators  fol- 
lowed, and  his  remains  were  found  in  1859.  His 
ships  were  frozen  in  the  ice,  and  his  men  had  perished. 
The  naked  and  ghastly  skeletons  told  their  silent,  mel- 
ancholy tale  more  forcibly  than  human  lips  could 
utter.  The  northern  ocean,  during  the  long  Arctic 
night,  when  the  Aurora  flashes  silently  across  the  sky, 
lighting  up  the  moving  mountains  of  ice  that  crash 
and  jar  against  each  other  with  the  thunder  of  an 
earthquake,  produce  a  scene  never  to  be  forgotten  by 
the  bold  mariner.  The  scenery  in  the  far  frozen  seas, 
where  Perry,  Kane,  McClure,  and  Hall,  dared  the  sur- 
rounding dangers,  amid  the  mighty  workings  of  nature, 
forms  a  subject  ever  fraught  with  interest. 


40  INDIA-RUBBER. 


INDIA-RUBBER. 


;NE  day  in  the  year  1833  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Charles  Goodyear,  of  the  firm  of  A.  Goodyear 
&  Sons,  hardware  merchants  in  Philadelphia, 
chanced  to  have  business  which  required  his  pres- 
ence in  the  city  of  New  York  for  several  days. 

While  there  he  happened  to  pass  the  store  of  the 

Roxbury  India-Rubber  Company.  He  had  read 
much  of  the  utility  of  the  then  recently  invented  India- 
rubber  life-preservers,  and,  his  curiosity  being  aroused, 
he  entered  the  store,  and  after  a  short  talk  purchased 
a  life-preserver  and  carried  it  with  him  to  Philadelphia. 
Soon  after  his  return  he  failed  in  business  and  became 
heavily  involved  in  debt. 

While  examining  the  life-preserver,  several  months 
afterward,  an  improvement  in  the  manner  of  inflating 
it  occurred  to  him,  and  he  hastened  to.  New  York  for 
the  purpose  of  laying  it  before  the  agent  of  whom  he 
had  purchased,  with  a  view  of  selling  his  right  to  the 
improvement,  and  thus  hoping  to  realize  a  sum  which 
would  be  sufficient  to  pay  his  debts  and  set  him  on  his 
feet  once  more. 

The  agent,  however,  had  a  sorry  tale  to  tell  him. 
The  first  pair  of  India-rubber  shoes  ever  seen  in  this 
country  were  brought  here  from  South  America  in 
1820.  Until  1823  they  were  handed  about  merely  as 
a  curiosity,  when  a  shipment  of  five  hundred  pairs, 
soon  followed  by  another  of  five  thousand  pairs,  was 
made. 

These  shoes  at  once  sold  for  a  very  high  price,  not 


INDIA-RUBBER.  41 

less  than  sixteen  dollars  per  pair.  This  price,  together 
with  the  wonderful  cheapness  of  the  material  of  which 
they  were  made,  had  the  effect  of  creating,  as  it  were, 
an  India-rubber  mania,  similar  to  the  petroleum  mania 
which  occurred  some  thirty  years  later,  and  by  which 
so  many  were  ruined.  One  of  the  most  important 
results  of  the  mania  was  the  formation  of  the  Roxbury 
India-Rubber  Company,  before  mentioned,  with  a  cap- 
ital of  three  hundred  thousand  dollars.  But  they  en- 
countered new  and  tremendous  difficulties,  for  it  was 
found  that  the  shoes  would  not  stand  the  climate  of 
our  northern  winters ;  an  exposure  to  a  cold  at  which 
water  would  congeal  would  render  them  as  hard  and 
as  brittle  as  glass,  while  a  temperature  of  one  hundred 
degrees  would  convert  them  into  a  mass  of  sticky  gum. 
In  short,  the  agent  said  that  unless  some  way  of  rem- 
edying these  two  evils  was  found,  the  Roxbury  com- 
pany, as  well  as  all  other  companies  of  the  same  kind 
would  soon  become  bankrupt 

This  catastrophe  did  occur  a  short  time  aftep  this 
conversation,  to  the  ruin  of  hundreds  of  prominent 
business  men  in  New  York  and  elsewhere,  and  with 
it  died  out  all  interest  in  the  manufacture  and  utility 
of  India-rubber,  except  in  the  mind  of  one  single  indi- 
vidual, and  that  individual  was  Charles  Goodyear,  bank- 
rupt iron  merchant,  and  a  native  of  Massachusetts. 

On  his  return  to  Philadelphia,  Mr.  Goodyear  began 
his  experiments.  He  purchased  a  few  pounds  of  India- 
rubber.  He  melted  it,  he  pounded  it,  he  rolled  it,  he 
kneaded  it ;  in  fact  he  manipulated  it  in  every  imagin- 
able manner,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 

He  read  about  it ;  he  talked  of  it  with  professors 
and  physicians  and  other  learned  men  ;  he  pondered 
upon  it  by  day,  he  dreamed  of  it  by  night,  but  with- 


42  »          INDIA-RUBBER. 

out  success.  He  mixed  it  with  magnesia,  turpentine, 
alcohol,  and  tried  every  way  imaginable  to  gain  his 
object,  but  the  substance  presented  the  same  difficul- 
ties as  before.  Once  he  thought  he  had  succeeded 
by  mixing  quicklime  with  the  gum.  He  made  a  few 
specimens  of  cloth,  which  presented  an  elegant  appear- 
ance. But  he  soon  learned,  to  his  dismay,  that  the 
weakest  acid,  such  as  orange  juice,  dropped  upon  the 
cloth,  at  once  changed  it  to  its  original  condition. 
One  morning  as  he  was  going  to  his  shop  he  met  an 
Irishman,  in  his  employ,  who  was  highly  elated,  having, 
as  he  thought,  discovered  the  process  so  much  sought 
for.  He  had  on  a  pair  of  pants  which  he  had  dipped 
in  a  barrel  of  gum.  They  were  nicely  covered,  as  with 
a  varnish,  and  for  a  few  moments  Mr.  Goodyear  thought 
that  perhaps  Pat  had  blundered  into  the  secret.  The 
man  sat  down  on  a  stool  to  his  work,  and  in  a  few  ipo- 
ments,  on  attempting  to  rise,  found  himself  glued  to 
his  seat,  with  his  legs  stuck  tightly  together.  He  had 
to  be  cut  out  of  his  pants,  amid  the  laughter  of  the 
by-standers. 

Thus  Charles  Goodyear  struggled  on,  sometimes  in 
a  debtor's  prison,  always  without  provisions  for  a  week 
ahead,  for  five  years.  Then  it  was  that  he  made  the 
simple  discovery  which  has  rendered  India-rubber  so 
useful  to  the  world.  It  was  as  follows :  Take  a  piece 
of  common  sticky  gum,  sprinkle  a  little  sulphur  on  it, 
put  it  in  an  oven  heated  to  a  temperature  of  two  hun- 
dred and  seventy  degrees,  -and  bake  it  for  a  short  time. 
It  comes  out  retaining  all  its  good  qualities,  and  having 
wholly  lost  its  liability  to  harden  in  cold  or  melt  in 
warm  weather.  He  found,  by  subsequent  experiments, 
that  by  varying  the  quantity  of  heat  he  could  make  it 
as  hard  as  ivory  or  as  flexible  as  whalebone. 


INDIA-RUBBER.  43 

After  this  discovery  the  interest  in  the  manufacture 
of  India-rubber  goods  revived,  and  the  business  has 
now  swelled  to  one  of  immense  magnitude.  For 
instance,  a  single  firm  in  New  York,  engaged  in  the 
manufacture  of  rubber  belting,  annually  sells  two  million 
dollars'  worth  of  belts.  During  the  late  civil  war 
more  than  four  million  India-rubber  blankets  were  sup- 
plied to  the  soldiers  of  both  armies. 

An  interesting  account  is  given  by  Robert  Cross  of 
the  methods  adopted  in  Brazil  for  obtaining  the  gum 
from  the  India-rubber  trees.  We  glean  a  few  facts 
therefrom : 

"In  the  investigation  of  this  subject  I  traveled  over 
a  wide  extent  of  flat  forest  country,  much  divided  by 
miry  hollows  and  tidal  gapos,  which  stretched  along  the 
bank  of  the  river  Guama.  Although  this  river  is  three 
times  as  broad  as  the  Thames  at  London  bridge,  it  is 
not  to  be  seen  on  any  ordinary  map.  In  the  region 
alluded  to  there  were  hundreds  of  trees  wrought  by 
different  collectors,  each  of  whom  had  a  separate  piece 
of  land  to  work  on. 

"  The  collectors  begin  to  work  immediately  at  day- 
break, or  as  soon  as  they  can  see  to  move  about  among 
the  trees.  They  say  the  milk  flows  more  freely  and  in 
greater  quantity  at  early  morn.  I  do  not  attach  much 
importance  to  this  statement,  but  I  have  recorded  it. 
Another  and  more  probable  reason  is,  that  as  the  rain 
often  falls  about  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
the  tapping  must  be  done  early,  as,  in  the  event  of  a 
shower,  the  milk  would  be  spattered  about  and  lost. 
The  collector,  first  of  all,  at  the  beginning  of  the  dry 
season,  goes  around  and  lays  down  at  the  base  of  each 
tree  a  certain  number  of  small  cups  of  burnt  clay.  At 
the  lesser  trees  only  three  or  four  are  put,  but  at  the 


44  INDIA-RUBBER. 

larger  ones  from  eight  to  twelve  are  deposited.  The 
footpaths  leading  from  tree  to  tree  are  likewise 
cleared  of  sapling  growths,  and  the  bridges  over 
the  gapos  formed  at  each  place  by  the  trunk  of  a  tree 
are,  where  necessary,  replaced. 

"  On  proceeding  to  his  work  the  collector  takes  with 
him  a  small  ax  for  tapping,  and  a  wicker  basket  con- 
taining a  good-sized  ball  of  well-wrought  clay.  He 
usually  has,  likewise,  a  bag  for  the  waste  droppings  of 
rubber  and  for  what  may  adhere  to  the  bottom  of  the 
cups.  These  promiscuous  gatherings  are  termed  ser- 
namby,  and  form  the  '  negrohead'  of  the  English  market. 
The  cups,  as  already  stated,  are  of  burnt  clay,  and  are 
sometimes  round,  but  more  frequently  flat  or  slightly 
concave  on  one  side,  as  to  stick  easily  when,  with  a 
small  portion  of  clay,  they  are  pressed  against  the 
trunk  of  a  tree.  The  contents  of  fifteen  cups  make  one 
English  imperial  pint. 

"  Arriving  at  the  tree  the  collector  takes  the  ax  in 
his  right  hand  and,  striking  in  an  upward  direction  as 
high  as  he  can  reach,  makes  a  deep  upward-sloping  cut 
across  the  trunk,  which  always  goes  through  the  bark 
and  penetrates  an  inch  or  more  into  the  wood.  The 
cut  is  an  inch  in  breadth.  Frequently  a  small  portion 
of  bark  breaks  off  from  the  upper  side,  and  occasion- 
ally a  thin  splinter  of  wood  is  also  raised.  Quickly 
stooping  down  he  takes  a  cup  and,  pasting  a  small 
quantity  of  clay  on  the  flat  side,  presses  it  to  the  trunk, 
close  beneath  the  cut.  By  this  time  the  milk,  which  is 
of  dazzling  whiteness,  begins  to  exude,  so  that,  if 
requisite,  he  so  smooths  the  clay  that  it  may  trickle 
directly  into  the  cup.  At  a  distance  of  four  or  five 
inches,  but  at  the  same  height,  another  cup  is  luted 
on,  and  so  the  process  is  continued  until  a  row  of  cups 


INDIA-RUBBER.  45 

encircles  the  tree  at  a  height  of  about  six  feet  from  the 
ground.  Tree  after  tree  is  treated  in  like  manner,  until 
the  tapping  required  for  the  day  is  finished. 

"  On  the  following  morning  the  operation  is  per- 
formed in  the  same  way,  only  that  the  cuts  or  gashes 
beneath  which  the  cups  are  placed  are  made  from  six 
to  eight  inches  lower  down  the  trunk  than  those  of  the 
previous  day.  Thus,  each  day  brings  the  cups  grad- 
ually lower,  until  the  ground  is  reached.  The  collector 
then  begins  as  high  as  he  can  reach,  and  descends  as 
before,  taking  care,  however,  to  make  his  cuts  in  sep- 
arate places  from  those  previously  made. 

"  Going  from  tree  to  tree,  at  a  sort  of  running  pace, 
the  collector  empties  the  contents  of  the  cups  into  a 
large  calabash,  which  he  carries  in  his  hand.  As  he 
pours  the  milk  out  of  each  cup,  he  draws  his  thumb  or 
forefinger  over  the  bottom,  to  clean  out  some  which 
would  otherwise  adhere.  Indeed,  a  small  quantity  does 
remain,  which  is  afterward  pulled  off,  and  classed  as 
sernamby.  The  cups,  on  being  emptied,  are  laid  in  a 
little  heap  at  the  base  of  each  tree,  to  be  ready  for  the 
following  morning.  The  trees  occur  at  various  dis- 
tances, from  ten  to  one  hundred  yards  apart,  and  as  I 
traveled  over  the  intricate  network  of  muddy  footpaths, 
I  continually  felt  perplexed  and  surprised  that  the 
natives  have  not  yet  seen  the  advantages  that  would 
be  derived  by  forming  plantations,  whereby  more  than 
twice  the  quantity  of  caoutchouc  might  be  collected  in 
one-fourth  the  time,  and  at  far  less  cost  and  labor. 

"  The  best  milk-yielding  tree  I  examined  had  the 
marks  of  twelve  rows  of  cups,  which  had  already  been 
put  on  this  season.  The  rows  were  only  six  inches 
apart,  and  in  each  row  there  were  six  cups,  so  that  the 
total  number  of  wood  cuts  within  the  space  of  three 


X 

46  WHAT  PATENTS   HAVE  DONE. 

months  amounted  to  seventy-two.  It  grew  close  to  a 
gapo,  only  eight  inches  above  high-tide  mark,  and, 
being  a  vigorous  tree,  the  cups  were  usually  well  filled  ; 
but  with  two  years  or  so  of  such  treatment  the  tree 
would  probably  be  permanently  injured.  It  is  a  com- 
mon report  that  the  trees  yield  the  greatest  quantity  of 
milk  at  full  moon." 


WHAT  PATENTS  HAVE  DONE. 

* 

I'ERHAPS  no  branch  of  industry  can  be  selected 
|  that  has  a  more  direct  bearing  on  the  interests 
of  all  classes  than  the  making  of  books  and  news- 
papers. And  what  has  been  the  agency  of  patents 
in  the  development  of  this  single  art,  identified  with 
the  intellectual,  moral  and  material  welfare  of  the 
entire  community?  Commencing  with  the  paper;  it 
was  cheapened  three  cents  a  pound  by  the  invention  of 
Watt  and  Burgess  in  1854,  which  consisted  in  boiling 
wood  pulp  in  caustic  alkali  under  pressure. 

As  concerns  the  type,  David  Bruce,  Jr.,  by  ma- 
chines patented  in  1843,  reduced  the  cost  fully  twenty- 
five  per  cent ;  he  used  a  pump  to  force  the  molten  type- 
metal  into  the  molds  to  secure  a  sharp,  clear  letter  on 
the  type,  and  for  the  production  of  some  varieties 
enabled  steam-power  to  be  used.  Then,  as  to  printing, 
the  press  used  by  Franklin  over  a  century  ago  gave  but 
one  hundred  and  thirty  impressions  an  hour,  but  to  the 
year  1847  successive  patented  improvements  brought 


WHAT  PATENTS   HAVE  DONE.  47 

the  capacity  of  newspaper  printing  up'  to  from  twenty- 
five  hundred  to  fifty  thousand  impressions  an  hour,  the 
former  of  large,  the  Tatter  of  small  newspaper  size.  This 
was  the  famous  Napier  double  cylinder  press,  an  Eng- 
lish invention.  It  was  believed  that  with  this  machine 
the  limit  of  speed  was  reached ;  that  if  a  newspaper's 
circulation  should  exceed  twenty  thousand  copies  daily, 
all  the  type,  presses,  and  appointments  of  the  printing 
office,  as  well  as  the  force  of  compositors,  pressmen, 
proof-readers,  and  others,  would  have  to  be  doubled. 
And  all  this  time  the  public  were  calling  for  more  news- 
papers, more  books,  more  periodicals,  more  printed 
matter  generally.  It  was  at  this  time  that  R.  M.  Hoe  pro- 
duced his  great  improvements  in  printing  machinery, 
now  so  well  known.  In  the  year  1861  one  of  the  New 
York  journals  printed  a  daily  edition  varying  from 
115,000  to  130,000  copies,  and  this  was,  printed  in  four 
hours  and  a  half.  To  have  done  the  same  work  on  a 
Napier  press  would  have  required  five  additional  forms 
of  type,  each  at  a  cost  of  one  thousand  dollars  per  week, 
making  five  thousand  dollars  per  week,  or  $260,000  per 
annum  in  type  alone  in  this  one  newspaper  office,  to  say 
nothing  of  additional  presses,  room,  and  workmen,  that 
would  have  been  required  by  the  Napier  presses. 
During  the  fourteen  years  immediately  following,  Hoe 
sold  forty  of  his  great  presses,  and  the  gain  to  the 
public  may  be  fairly  estimated  from  the  instance  above 
given. 

After  the  papers  are  printed  they  must  be  folded,  and 
this  was  formerly  done  by  hand.  About  the  year  1859 
Cyrus  Chambers  began  a  series  of  inventions  for  doing 
this  by  machinery,  and  in  1874  he  had  brought  into  use 
seventy-two  of  his  patent  "  newsfolders "  for  folding 
newspapers.  The  cost  of  running  these  machines  was 


48 


WHAT  PATENTS   HAVE  DONE. 


$2  a  day  each,  and  each  accomplished  the  work  of  five 
men.  The  same  work  by  hand  cost  $8.75  per  day, 
being  a* saving  of  $6.75  per  day  for  each  machine,  and 
these  newspaper  folders  alone,  during  the  original  term 
of  the  patent,  effected  an  economy  of  labor  amounting 
to  upwards  of  one  million  one  hundred  and  sixty-five 
thousand  dollars.  But  this,  like  the  improvements  in 
paper-making,  in  type-founding,  and  in  printing,  ex- 
tended far  beyond  the  production  of  newspapers. 

During  the  same  period  the  paper-folders  for  duode- 
cimo publications  saved  in  labor  more  than  $139,000  ; 
for  quartos  more  than  $64,000 ;  and  for  thirty-two-mos, 
more  than  $532,000, —  making  from  one  patent  alone, 
in  less  than  fourteen  years,  a  saving  of  human  toil  and 
exertion  amounting  to  more  than  two  million  two  hun- 
dred and  forty-three  thousand  dollars ;  and  the  econ- 
omy is  to  continue  and  increase  for  all  time,  never  to 
be  diminished,  but  likely  to  be  increased  by  added  im- 
provements called  forth  by  the  encouragement  of  the 
patent  laws. 

Turning  to  other  patents  relating  to  articles  of  gen- 
eral use,  we  find  universally  the  same  results.  We  can 
all  recollect  the  time  when  feminine  fashion  called  forth 
immense  quantities  of  tempered  steel  wire  for  crinolines. 
At  the  outset  the  wire  cost  three  dollars  a  pound,  be- 
cause in  tempering  it  was  necessary  to  wind  the  flat 
wire  in  volute  coils  kept  apart  by  interlaced  iron  wires, 
the  coils  being  thus  carefully  heated  in  a  furnace,  and 
then  plunged  into  a  hardening  bath.  In  August,  1858, 
Henry  Waterman  patented  a  plan  of  drawing  the  wire 
lengthwise  from  the  fire  through  the  hardening  liquid, 
and  by  this  means  reduced  the  cost  of  hardening  from 
three  dollars  a  pound  to  three  cents.  As  a  result  the 
steel  skirt,  instead  of  being  the  fanciful  luxury  of  the 


WHAT  PATENTS  HAVE  DONE. 


49 


rich,  was  brought  within  the  reach  of  the  poorest.  But, 
far  from  this,  the  method  has  been  found  available, 
with  this  economy,  in  the  manufacture  of  tempering 
wire  for  the  manifold  purposes  of  manufacturers  and 
engineering. 

The  copper-toed  shoe  is  a  well  known  example  of 
the  economy  brought  about  through  patents.  The  sav- 
ing to  this  country  is  estimated  at  from  six  millions  to 
twelve  millions  annually.  The  superintendent  of  a 
"  Home  for  Little  Wanderers"  certifies  that  it  reduced 
the  cost  of  shoes  for  the  children  in  the  establishment 
from  one  thousand  dollars  a  year  to  four  hundred. 

Patents  for  improvements  relating  to  shoes  for 
horses  are  equally  instructive.  To  make  horseshoes 
by  hand  costs  an  average  of  sixteen  cents  each,  with- 
out counting  the  cost  of  the  iron.  So  far  back  as  1835 
Henry  Burden  began  the  invention  of  horseshoe  ma- 
chinery, and  in  1857  patented  what  is  claimed  to  be 
the  first  really  successful  apparatus, —  although  some  of 
his  previously  patented  devices  were  included  in  it, — 
and  in  1871  horseshoes  were  sold,  iron  included,  at 
four  and  a  half  cents  each,  the  shoes  weighing  on  an 
average  one  pound  each.  The  absolute  benefit  to  the 
public  cannot  be  calculated,  but  the  gain  to  the  govern- 
ment during  the  late  war  amounted  to  four  millions 
of  dollars.  And  the  same  motives  which  led  Henry 
Burden  to  his  long  continued  and  finally  successful 
efforts, —  the  reward  offered  by  the  patent  laws, —  is 
urging  other  inventors  to  still  further  improvements 
in  the  same  line  at  the  present  time. 


50  GALILEO. 


GALILEO. 


'HE  Copernican  theory,  which  Tycho  had  labored 
in  vain  to  supersede,  was  next  received  and  sup- 
ported by  an  Italian  philosopher,  whose  name 
and  history  are  inseparably  interwoven  with  the 
progress  of  astronomy.  That  illustrious  individual, 
Galileo  Galilei,  usually  known  by  his  Christian  name, 
was  born  at  Pisa,  in  1564.  His  father,  a  Tuscan  noble- 
man of  small  fortune,  caused  him  to  be  educated  for 
the  profession  of  medicine  at  the  university  of  his 
native  city.  While  studying  there,  he  became  deeply 
sensible  of  the  absurdities  of  the  philosophy  of  Aris- 
totle, as  it  had  then  come  to  be  taught,  and  he  became 
its  declared  enemy.  That  spirit  of  observation  for 
which  he  was  so  distinguished  was  early  developed. 
When  only  nineteen  years  old,  the  swinging  of  a  lamp 
suspended  from  the  ceiling  of  the  cathedral  in  Pisa,  led 
him  to  investigate  the  laws  of  the  oscillation  of  the 
pendulum,  which  he  was  the  first  to  employ  as  a  meas- 
urer of 'time.  He  left  it  incomplete,  however,  and  it 
was  brought  to  perfection  by  his  son,  Vincenzo,  and 
particularly  by  Huygens,  the  latter  of  whom  must  be 
regarded  as  the  true  inventor  of  the  pendulum.  About 
this  period  Galileo  devoted  himself  exclusively  to  math- 
ematics and  natural  science,  and  in  1586  was  led  to  the 
invention  of  the  hydrostatic  balance.  In  1589,  his  dis- 
tinction in  the  exact  sciences  gained  for  him  the  chair 
of  mathematics  in  his  native  university,  where,  imme- 
diately on  his  installation,  he  began  to  assert  the  laws 
of  nature  against  a  perverted  philosophy.  In  the  pres- 


GALILEO.  5 : 

ence  of  numerous  spectators,  he  performed  a  series  of 
experiments  in  the  tower  of  the  cathedral,  to  show  that 
weight  has  no  influence  on  the  velocity  of  falling 
bodies.  By  this  means  he  excited  the  opposition  of 
the  adherents  of  Aristotle  to  such  a  degree  that,  after 
two  years,  he  was  forced  to  resign  his  professorship. 
Driven  from  Pisa,  he  retired  into  private  life ;  but  his 
genius  being  appreciated  in  another  part  of  Italy,  he 
was,  in  1592,  appointed  professor  of  mathematics  at 
Padua.  He  lectured  here  with  unparalleled  success. 
Scholars  from  the  most  distant  regions  of  Europe 
crowded  round  him.  He  delivered  his  lectures  in  the 
Italian  language  instead  of  Latin,  which  was  con- 
sidered a  daring  innovation. 

During  eighteen  years  which  he  spent  at  Padua,  he 
made  many  discoveries  in  natural  philosophy,  which  he 
introduced  into  his  lectures,  without  regard  to  their 
inconsistency  with  the  doctrines  previously  taught. 
Among  these  may  be  mentioned  his  discovery  of  the 
rate  of  descent  in  falling  bodies  ;  certain  improvements 
on  the  thermometer ;  some  interesting  observations  on 
the  magnet ;  and  a  number  of  experiments  relative  to  the 
floating  and  sinking  of  solid  bodies  in  water.  In  1609, 
hearing  that  one  Jansen,  a  Dutchman,  had  made  an 
instrument  by  which  distant  objects  were  made  to 
appear  near,  Galileo,  whose  mind  was  prepared  for  the 
discovery,  instantly  conceived  on  what  principle  it  was 
constructed,  and,  without  losing  a  day,  he  fashioned  a 
similar  instrument  with  many  improvements  ;  such  was 
the  origin  of  the  telescope,  the  most  interesting  of  all 
instruments  connected  with  science. 

Turning  his  optical  tube  toward  the  heavens,  Galileo 
perceived  the  moon  to  be  a  body  of  uneven  surface,  the 
elevations  of  which  he  computed  by  their  shadows  ;  and 


c2  GALILEO. 

the  sun  to  be  occasionally  spotted  ;  and  from  the  regular 
advance  from  east  to  west  of  these  spots,  he  inferred  the 
rotation  of  the  sun,  and  the  inclination  of  its  axis  to  the 
plane  of  the  ecliptic.  From  a  particular  nebula,  which 
his  rude  instrument  enabled  him  to  resolve  into  indi- 
vidual stars,  he  even  conjectured,  what  Lord  Rosse  has 
but  recently  proved,  that  the  whole  Milky  Way  was  but 
a  vast  assemblage  of  stars  and  systems.  He  discovered 
that  the  planet  Venus  waxed  and  waned  like  the  moon, 
that  Saturn  had  something  like  wings  by  its  sides  (after- 
ward found  to  be  a  ring),  and  that  Jupiter  was  sur- 
rounded by  four  satellites.  It  is  now  altogether  impos- 
sible to  imagine  the  wonder  and  delight  with  which 
these  discoveries  must  have  filled  the  mind  of  a  philoso- 
pher like  Galileo,  who  had  perhaps  long  surmised  that 
all  was  not  as  it  seemed  in  the  heavens,  but  despaired 
of  ever  being  able  to  penetrate  the  mystery.  In  the 
year  1611,  while  entering  upon  his  investigations,  he 
was  induced,  by  the  invitation  of  his  prince,  the  Grand 
Duke  of  Tuscany,  to  return  to  Pisa,  and  resume  the 
chair  of  mathematics  there,  with  a  large  salary.  It  was 
consequently  at  that  city  that  he  first  gave  his  discov- 
eries to  the  world.  That  persecution  which  had  only 
been  suspended  by  accident  in  the  case  of  Copernicus, 
now  fell  with  full  weight  on  the  head  of  the  Italian 
philosopher.  Having  openly  declared,  in  a  work  which 
he  published,  that  his  discoveries  proved  the  truth  of 
the  Copernican  theory,  he  was  denounced  by  the  clergy 
as  a  heretic,  and  obliged,  in  1615,  to  proceed  to  Rome, 
and  appear  before  the  court  of  Inquisition,  who  obliged 
him  to  promise  that  he  would  never  more  broach  such 
dangerous  doctrines.  It  has  been  stated,  but  is  not 
quite  certain,  that  he  was  on  this  occasion  imprisoned 
by  the  Inquisition  for  five  months,  and  that  he  would 


GALILEO. 


53 


have  suffered  still  more  severely  if  the  Grand  Duke  had 
not  interceded  for  him. 


GALILEO    IN    PRISON. 


For  several  years  he  observed  the  silence  enjoined 
upon  him,  but  continued  to  pursue  the  study  of  the  true 
theory  of  the  heavens.  Panting  to  make  known  to  the 
world  a  complete  account  of  the  system  of  Copernicus,  yet 


54  GALILEO. 

dreading  the  prejudices  of  his  enemies,  he  fell  upon  the 
expedient  of  writing  a  work,  in  which,  without  giving 
his  own  opinion,  he  introduces  three  persons  in  a 
dialogue,  of  whom  the  first  defends  the  Copernican 
system,  the  second  the  Ptolemsean  (or  that  of  Aristotle), 
and  the  third  weighs  the  reasons  of  both  in  such  a  way 
that  the  subject  seems  problematical,  though  it  is  impos- 
sible to  mistake  the  preponderance  of  arguments  in 
favor  of  Copernicus.  With  this  great  work,  which  is 
still  held  in  reverence,  Galileo  went  to  Rome  in  1630, 
in  the  sixty-sixth  year  of  his  age,  and  by  an  extraordi- 
nary stretch  of  favor,  received  permission  to  print  it. 
Scarcely  had  it  appeared  at  Rome  and  Florence,  when 
it  was  attacked  by  the  disciples  of  Aristotle,  and  most 
violently  of  all  by  the  teacher  of  philosophy  at  Pisa.  A 
congregation  of  cardinals,  monks,  and  mathematicians 
was  appointed  to  examine  his  work,  which  they  unhesi- 
tatingly condemned  as  highly  dangerous,  and  summoned 
him  before  the  tribunal  of  the  Inquisition.  This  blow 
fell  heavily  on  the  head  of  Galileo,  now  an  old  man,  and 
left  defenceless  by  the  death  of  his  friend  and  patron, 
Cosmo  II.  He  was  compelled  to  go  to  Rome  in  the 
winter  of  1633,  and  was  immediately  immured  in  a  cell 
in  one  of  the  prisons  of  the  Inquisition.  There  he 
remained  for  several  months,  when,  being  brought 
before  an  assembly  of  his  judges,  he  was  condemned  to 
renounce,  kneeling,  before  them,  with  his  hand  upon  the 
gospels,  what  were  called  the  "  sinful  and  detestable 
errors  and  heresies "  which  he  had  maintained.  The 
firmness  of  Galileo  gave  way  at  this  critical  moment  of 
his  life :  he  pronounced  the  recantation.  But  at  the 
moment  he  rose,  indignant  at  having  sworn  in  violation 
of  his  conviction,  he  exclaimed,  stamping  his  foot, 
"  E  pur  si  muove  !  " — ("  It  still  moves  ! "}  Upon  this 


GALILEO.  55 

dreadful  relapse  into  heresy,  he  was  sentenced  to  impris- 
onment in  the  Inquisition  for  life,  and  every  week  for 
three  years  was  to  repeat  the  seven  penitential  psalms  ; 
his  "Dialogues"  were  also  prohibited,  and  his  system 
utterly  condemned.  Although  Galileo  was  in  this  man- 
ner sentenced  to  confinement,  it  appeared  to  those  who 
judged  him  that  he  would  not  be  able,  from  his  age,  to 
endure  such  a  severe  punishment,  and  they  mercifully 
banished  him  to  a  particular  spot  near  Florence. 

Here  Galileo  lived  for  several  years,  employing  his 
time  in  the  study  of  mechanics  and  other  branches  of 
natural  philosophy.  The  results  are  found  in  two  im- 
portant works  on  the  laws  of  motion,  the  foundation 
of  the  present  system  of  physics  and  astronomy.  At 
the  same  time  he  tried  to  make  use  of  Jupiter's  satel- 
lites for  the  calculation  of  longitudes ;  and  though  he 
brought  nothing  to  perfection  in  this  branch,  he  was 
the  first  who  reflected  systematically  on  such  a  method 
of  fixing 'geographical  longitudes.  He  was  at  this  time 
afflicted  with  a  disease  in  his  eyes,  one  of  which  was 
wholly  blind,  and  the  other  almost  useless,  when,  in 

1637,  he  discovered  the  libration  of  the  moon.     Blind- 
ness,  deafness,  want  of  sleep,  and   pain   in  his  limbs, 
united  to  embitter  his  declining  years ;  still  his  mind 
was  active.     "In  my  darkness,"  he  writes  in  the  year 

1638,  "  I  muse  now  upon  this  object  of  nature  and  now 
upon  that,  and  find  it  impossible  to  soothe  my  restless 
head,  however  much   I   wish  it.     This  perpetual  action 
of  mind  deprives  me  almost  wholly  of  sleep."     In  this 
condition,  and  affected  by  a  slowly-consuming  fever,  he 
expired  in  January,  1642,  in  the  seventy-eighth  year  of 
his   age.     His  relics  were  deposited  in  the  church   of 
Santa  Croce,  at  Florence,  where  posterity  did  justice  to 
his  memory  by  erecting  a  splendid  monument  in  1737. 


56  GALILEO 

Galileo  is  represented  by  his  biographers  as  of  di- 
minutive stature,  but  strong  and  healthy,  of  agreeable 
countenance,  and  lively  conversation  and  manner.  He 
preferred  living  in  the  country,  where  his  relaxations 
consisted  in  the  cultivation  of  his  garden,  and  in  the 
company  and  conversation  of  his  friends.  He  loved 
music,  drawing  and  poetry ;  and  is  said  to  have  been  so 
fond  of  Ariosto,  that  he  knew  the  whole  of  the  "Or- 
lando "  by  heart.  He  had  few  books.  "  The  best 
book,"  he  said,  "  is  nature."  A  complete  edition  of  his 
works,  in  thirteen  volumes,  appeared  at  Milan  in  1803, 
the  style  of  which  is  natural  and  fluent,  so  elegant  and 
pure  that  it  has  been  held  up  by  competent  judges  as 
a  model  of  classical  Italian.  "  Altogether,"  says  Pro- 
fessor Playfair,  "  Galileo  is  one  of  those  to  whom  hu- 
man knowledge  is  under  the  greatest  obligation.  His 
discoveries  in  the  theory  of  motion,  in  the  laws  of  the 
descent  of  heavy  bodies,  and  in  the  motion  of  project- 
iles, laid  the  foundation  of  all  the  great  improvements 
which  have  since  been  made  by  the  application  of  math- 
ematics to  natural  philosophy.  If  to  these  we  add  the 
invention  of  the  telescope,  the  discoveries  made  by  that 
instrument,  the  confirmation  of  the  Copernican  system 
which  these  discoveries  afforded,  and  lastly,  the  wit  and 
argument  with  which  he  combated  and  exposed  the 
prejudice  and  presumption  of  the  schools,  we  must 
admit  that  the  history  of  human  knowledge  contains 
few  greater  names  than  that  of  Galileo." 


NAPOLEON'S  PASSAGE   OF   THE  ALPS.  57 

NAPOLEON'S  PASSAGE  OF  THE  ALPS. 


[HE  page  of  history  has  never  recorded  greater 
examples  of  generalship  than  that  displayed 
by  Napoleon  Bonaparte.  Every  age  produces 
its  great  men  —  men  who  seem  to  be  born  for 
the  occasion,  and  as  they  move  forward  the  whole 
nation  instinctively  moves  with  them.  Napoleon  was 
one  of  these.  He  was  born  to  command.  His  mind 
was  powerful  and  far-seeing,  and  notwithstanding  the 
defamatory  assertions  of  his  enemies,  the  whole  galaxy 
of  enlightened  statesmanship  affords  not  a  more  bril- 
liant star.  He  has  been  denominated  a  merciless 
tyrant,  a  lover  of  war  and  carnage,  and  an  ambitious, 
blood-thirsty  demon.  In  considering  whether  to  give 
credence  to  the  above  assertions,  we  should  take  into 
account  the  source  from  whence  they  sprang.  Napo- 
leon sided  with  the  people,  and  the  Bourbons,  nobles 
and  aristocracy  of  combined  Europe  rose  in  arms 
against  him.  They  flooded  the  world  with  books  and 
publications  calculated  to  defame  his  character,  and 
arouse  the  feelings  of  mankind  against  him.  The 
English  nation  was  his  most  bitter  and  Hnrelenting  foe; 
especially  were  they  loud  in  their  assertions  against 
him.  Comparatively  but  few  people  of  our  country 
can  pead  French,  and  even  the  press  of  that  country 
has  been  somewhat  controlled  by  the  Bourbons. 
Nearly  all  can  read  English,  and  as  many  works  from 
that  country  are  imported  or  reprinted,  and  scat- 
tered among  the  masses,  a  wrong  impression  is  often 
produced. 


5  8  NAPOLEON'S  PASSAGE   OF   THE   ALPS. 

In  studying  history  we  should  seek  for  facts  and 
avoid  partiality.  We  should  read  it  carefully,  noting 
the  conditions  that  prompted  the  events,  weighing  well 
the  acts,  and  then,  according  to  the  dictates  of  our 
reason  and  judgment,  award  the  praise  to  whom  it  is 
justly  due.  The  English  did  not  like  Washington. 
They  had  a  motive  —  he  fought  against  it.  They  did 
not  like  Napoleon.  They  had  a  motive  —  he  fought 
against  England.  That  Napoleon  was  ambitious  no 
one  can  deny ;  he  was  extremely  ambitious ;  but  he 
was  not  the  cruel  tyrant  he  has  been  depicted.  He 
respected  the  poor  as  well  as  the  rich  ;  he  ate,  slept, 
and  conversed  with  his  soldiers,  sharing  with  them 
their  toils  and  hardships,  and  they  almost  idolized  him. 
Herein  was  the  secret  of  his  great  success.  Probably 
no  man  ever  possessed  more  courage,  energy  and  deter- 
mination than  he  did.  He  could  foresee  the  result  of 
a  battle  and  plan  for  future  movements  and  events  with 
astonishing  accuracy ;  and  when  the  order  came  the 
soldiers  sprang  to  their  work  with  alacrity,  for  they 
well  knew  if  it  was  carried  out  to  the  letter  they  moved 
but  to  victory.  Nothing  that  was  within  the  bounds  of 
possibility  ever  deterred  his  dauntless  spirit. 

One  of  the  greatest  achievements  of  modern  times 
is  Napoleon's  celebrated  passage  of  the  Alps.  He  had 
recently  arrived  in  France  from  his  expedition  to  Egypt. 
Mighty  armies  were  rushing  upon  his  country  on  either 
hand.  The  powerful  English  navy  swept  the  seas 
triumphantly  everywhere,  and  blockaded  every,  port. 
From  the  north  the  Austrian  Marshal  Krey  was 
pressing  down  upon  them  with  a  well-disciplined  army, 
150,000  strong,  while  Italy  and  the  eastern  frontiers  of 
France  were  being  menaced  and  overrun  by  another 
Austrian  host  under  Melas,  140,000  in  number. 


NAPOLEON  AT  THE  BURNING  OF  MOSCOW. 


60  NAPOLEON'S   PASSAGE   OF   THE  ALPS. 

Something  must  be  done  or  France  would  be  de- 
stroyed. With  his  accustomed  promptness  and  vigor 
he  issued  a  brilliant  proclamation,  setting  forth  the 
situation  and  calling  upon  the  people  to  come  to  the 
rescue  of  their  country.  His  words  resounded  through- 
out the  nation  like  trumpet-notes  of  alarm,  and  150,000 
brave  soldiers  at  once  responded  to  his  call.  Placing 
these  under  Moreau,  who  was  to  take  charge  of  the 
campaign  on  the  Rhine,  he  placed  himself  at  the  head 
of  60,000  men,  made  up  from  fragments  of  old  reg- 
iments, new  recruits,  etc.,  and  commenced  the  march 
into  Italy. 

Many  of  the  men  composing  Napoleon's  army  were 
young  and  inexperienced,  and  nearly  two-thirds  of  them 
had  never  witnessed  a  regular  engagement.  It  would 
not  do  to  meet  the  formidable  array  of  Austrians  in  a 
pitched  battle  under  such  circumstances,  and  what  could 
not  be  done  by  force  must  be  accomplished  through 
stratagem.  He  at  once  formed  the  bold  resolution  to 
climb  the  Alps  and  descend  upon  their  rear. 

Veteran  officers  heard  his  plan  with  amazement,  and 
shook  their  heads  in  doubt.  They  believed  the  under- 
taking beyond  their  power  of  accomplishment.  They 
beheld  in  their  imagination  the  trackless  precipices,  the 
icy  crags,  the  murderous  avalanche,  and  they  shuddered 
at  the  prospect.  What  was  barely  possible  to  the  sin- 
gle traveler  must  be  impossible  for  an  army  of  60,000. 
But  the  arguments  of  Napoleon  at  length  prevailed  ; 
and  in  spite  of  the  ridicule  of  the  surrounding  nations 
at  what  they  believed  the  mad  and  foolish  attempt  of 
an  over-ambitious  commander,  they  reached  the  fron- 
tiers of  France. 

Before  them  was  the  mighty  Alpine  barrier.  Up 
from  the  green,  grassy  meadows  at  their  feet  they  rose 


NAPOLEON'S  PASSAGE   OF   THE  ALPS.  6 1 

until  they  seemed  to  pierce  and  mingle  with  the  silent 
clouds.  It  was  early  in  May,  1800,  when  the  expedi- 
tion started,  and  the  green  fields,  bedecked  with  the 
bright  blossoms  of  early  spring  flowers,  presented  a 
strange  contrast  to  the  bleak  and  forbidding  aspect 
before  them.  But  Napoleon  was  with  them  in  their 
hearts,  with  words  of  cheer  inspiring  their  inmost 
beings  with  courage  and  fortitude,  and  they  pressed 
on  into  the  dark  gorges  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains 
with  spirit  and  alacrity. 

Before  long  they  commenced  to  ascend  the  narrow, 
rocky  path  that  wound  around  the  precipitous  moun- 
tain-side and  along  the  edge  of  the  huge  ledges,  where 
to  look  down  would  cause  the  head  to  swim  with  dizzi- 
ness, and  the  moving  host  was  obliged  to  march  in 
single  file.  The  ponderous  cannon  wheels  were  taken 
from  the  axles,  and  being  slung  on  poles,  were  carried 
forward  by  the  men.  Pine  logs  were  split  and  hol- 
lowed out,  and  the  heavy  guns  being  placed  therein, 
were  drawn  up  the  steep  ascent  by  long  rows  of  mules 
in  single  file.  For  hours  they  toiled  on,  up  the  cheer- 
less, slippery  path,  the  air  becoming  more  cold  and 
piercing,  and  the  way  more  rugged,  bleak  and  barren, 
and  one  by  one  the  hardy  mules  gave  out  and  sank 
from  exhaustion.  It  was  more  than  the  faithful  ani- 
mals could  endure.  But  the  advancing  host  must  not 
stop  to  muse  upon  the  horrors  and  difficulties  of  the 
undertaking,  for  confusion  and  dismay  might  pervade 
their  ranks  and  the  enterprise  be  wrecked  at  the  outset. 
With  hearty  good  will  the  men  stepped  in  the  places 
of  the  fallen  mules,  and  with  their  own  shoulders  in 
harness,  a  hundred  men  to  a  gun,  pushed  forward  with 
renewed  energy,  onward  and  upward. 

Napoleon  had  done  all  that  mortal  man  could  do  to- 


62  NAPOLEON'S  PASSAGE   OF   THE  ALPS. 

lighten  the  difficulties  of  the  dangerous  passage.  He 
had  sent  forward  companies  of  mechanics  and  black- 
smiths to  take  apart  and  repair  the  gun-carriages  and 
vehicles  of  transportation,  loads  of  the  best  provisions 
to  feed  the  hungry,  and  hospital  tents  and  attendants 
to  receive  the  sick  and  wounded.  The  men  appreciated 
his  kindly  foresight,  and  felt  willing  to  endure  all  for 
his  sake  and  for  their  country. 

The  scene  now  became  one  of  wild  and  awful  grand- 
eur. They  were  entering  the  regions  of  eternal  snow. 
All  around  them  rose  icy  peaks  and  snow-capped  sum- 
mits, with  murderous  crags  and  yawning  chasms,  where 
the  wild  mountain  goat  could  scarce  obtain  a  foothold, 
and  where  the  foot  of  man  had  never  dared  to  tread. 
Below  them  were  stretches  of  dark  and  somber  forests 
of  pines  and  firs  ;  but  before  they  reached  their  elevated 
situation  they  were  stunted  and  blasted  by  the  frosts 
of  an  eternal  winter,  and  bleak  desolation  swept  the 
cheerless  mountain  pass. 

Away  to  the  westward,  in  the  direction  of  the  set- 
ting sun,  lay  the  beautiful  fields  and  blooming  gardens 
of  their  own  France,  bathed  in  the  golden  rays  of  celes- 
tial glory.  Far  beyond,  on  the  distant  confines  of  the 
horizon,  the  blue  hills  and  hazy  outline  bounded  the 
limits  of  vision.  Gradually  they  were  vailed  in  the 
dusky  shades  of  twilight,  while  yet  the  noble  orb  of 
day  cast  a  cold,  slanting  ray  upon  the  silent  snow-peaks 
that  towered  majestically  above.  A  few  moments  it 
lingered,  creeping  higher  and  higher,  to  the  very  sum- 
mits of  the  surrounding  peaks,  sending  back  its  spark- 
ling reflections  from  glistening  masses  of  frozen  snow 
and  ice,  while  the  wind  howled  and  roared  as  it  swept 
mercilessly  over  the  bleak  pinnacles,  bearing  clouds  of 
light  snow  swiftly  on  its  angry  bosom,  and  then  it  was 
gone. 


NAPOLEON'S   PASSAGE   OF   THE  ALPS.  63 

The  order  came  to  halt  as  they  reached  an  elevated 
valley  between  the  Alpine  ridges,  and  the  weary  sol- 
diers crept  close  to  their  bivouac  fires,  and  drawing  their 
great  cloaks  close  around  them  prepared  to  pass  the 
dreary  night.  Before  the  sun  gilded  the  surrounding 
peaks  the  army  was  again  astir  and  defiling  up  the 
winding  passage.  Experienced  guides  went  before 
with  long  poles  to  mark  the  path  over  the  deep  drifts  of 
driving  snow,  and  the  army,  lengthened  out  in  single  file, 
slowly  followed.  Great  caution  was  required  in  tread- 
ing the  uncertain  and  treacherous  path,  as  it  wound 
along  the  edge  of  the  frightful  precipice,  where  a  single 
misstep  would  precipitate  a  human  being  upon  murder- 
ous crags  a  thousand  feet  below.  Walls  of  rock  rose 
upon  the  other  hand  almost  perpendicularly,  until  they 
seemed  to  pierce  the  clouds.  The  water  falling  from 
the  crevices  congealed  along  the  side  of  the  cold  rock, 
forming  huge,  glittering  icicles,  and  away  above,  immense 
masses  of  snow  and  ice  jutted  out  like  fields  of  impend- 
ing doom.  The  eagle  started  from  his  aerial  perch,  and, 
screaming,  wheeled  and  plunged  down  —  far  down  into 
the  depths  of  the  dark  and  somber  forest  below.  A 
low,  muffled  rumbling  was  heard,  and  a  vast  mass  of 
snow  and  ice  was  seen  sliding  down  the  steep  mountain- 
side, gathering  force  and  power  as  it  proceeded,  rending 
tree,  and  rock,  and  ledge,  and  bearing  them  swiftly  on  its 
agitated  and  angry  bosom,  leaping  over  precipices  hun- 
dreds of  feet  in  height,  and  striking  the  ground  beyond, 
rending  it  as  though  with  an  earthquake  shock,  and  with 
all  its  accumulated  debris  take  the  last  great  plunge  over 
the  narrow  pathway,  with  the  crash  of  thunder,  to  strike 
among  the  crags  of  the  dread  abyss  a  thousand  feet 
down  ;  there  to  scatter  its  boulders  and  splintered  tim- 
ber, and  send  up  its  clouds  of  snowy  spray.  Woe  to 


64 


NAPOLEON'S  PASSAGE   OF   THE  ALPS. 


those  who  stood  within  its  reach  in  that  dread  moment. 
They  were  borne  on  the  wings  of  the  upheaving  tide  and 
buried  below,  there  to  sleep  until  the  archangel's  trump 
shall  call  the  dead  to  judgment. 

The  brave  men  looked  on  with  consternation  and 
trembled  with  awe  and  terror.  The  bugle  sounded  the 
charge  to  enliven  their  spirits,  and  they  pressed  on 
again  over  the  dangerous  pass,  and  up  to  still  more  ele- 
vated ground.  As  they  glanced  up  to  the  airy  summit 
of  the  high  granite  wall  upon  the  one  hand,  with  its 

freat,  black,  cavernous  openings  and  pendent,  over- 
anging  rocks,  and  noted  the  white  fleecy  clouds  in  the 
blue  firmament  moving,  as  it  were,  directly  against  it, 
the  entire  mass  seemed  moving  over  upon  them  as  if  to 
engulf  them  in  one  grand  overthrow  and  destruction. 
The  glance  below  would  cause  the  head  to  swim  and 
the  heart  to  flutter. 

Onward  and  upward,  from  danger  to  danger,  the 
path  led  them,  until  they  emerged  from  the  perilous 
ascent,  and,  entering  the  valley  of  Desolation,  stood 
upon  the  summit  of  their  journey.  Before  them,  upon 
the  bleak,  desolate  plain,  near  the  foot  of  still  higher 
peaks,  stood  the  famous  convent  of  St.  Bernard,  eight 
thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  the  high- 
est spot  on  the  continent  of  Europe  where  humanity 
dwells.  One  vast  scene  of  desolation,  cold,  bleak  and 
cheerless,  met  the  view.  As  they  marched  past  the 
convent  the  monks  came  out  and  presented  each  soldier 
with  a  slice  of  bread  and  a  cup  of  wine.  The  column 
was  about  twenty  miles  in  length,  all  told,  and  with  such 
order  and  precision  did  the  monks  execute  their  work 
that  no  halt  was  made,  and  not  a  single  man  left  the 
ranks. 

The  descent  was  even  more  perilous  than  the  ascent 


NAPOLEON'S  PASSAGE   OF   THE  ALPS.  65 

had  been.  The  horseman  pulled  his  horse  down  the 
slippery  steep  after  him,  where  a  tumble  or  misstep 
would  bring  him  down  upon  him,  and  perhaps  sweep 
half  a  score  of  men  into  eternity.  Their  mangled 
corpses  among  the  broken  rocks  at  the  foot  of  the  wild 
gorge  to  lay  forever  silent ;  their  bones  to  bleach,  sur- 
rounded by  the  most  bleak  and  somber  aspects  of 
nature,  where  the  foot  of  man  could  never  reach  them. 
The  wind  howled  among  the  branches  of  the  stunted 
Alpine  firs,  sending  up  little  clouds  of  light  snow  that 
moved  over  the  dark  forest  like  specters  of  the  gloomy 
solitude.  The  low  rumble  of  some  distant  avalanche 
now  and  then  reached  the  ear,  its  muffled,  jarring  thun- 
der striking  a  feeling  of  terror  to  the  hearts  of  those 
who  heard  it,  while  the  peal  of  the  bugle  rang  out  in 
startling  distinctness,  echoing  from  rock  to  rock  and 
from  crag  to  crag  in  deafening  detonations,  as  they 
passed  over  some  dangerous  place,  and  wound  slowly 
down  the  perilous  way. 

At  length,  after  four  days,  the  army  emerged  from 
the  rugged  pathway  and  stood  in  proud  martial  array 
upon  the  sunny  plains  of  Italy.  The  Austrian  General, 
Melas,  received  the  news  with  alarm  and  consternation. 
The  great  battle  of  Marengo  followed.  Napoleon  was 
the  victor  and  France  was  saved. 


66  ALCHEMT  AND   CHEMISTRY. 


ALCHEMY  AND  CHEMISTRY. 

OR  more  than  a  thousand  years  the  art  of  al- 
chemy captivated  many  noble  spirits,  and  was 
believed  in  by  millions.  It  is  generally  under- 
stood to  express  the  "  occult  art,"  or  the  changing 
by  some  chemical  process  the  base  metals  into 
the  most  precious.  Some  give  it  a  more  compre- 
hensive signification,  and  trace  in  the  name 
that  of  the  modern  science  which  succeeded  it.  The 
distinguished  English  chemist,  Dr.  Thompson,  goes 
still  further,  and  calls  it  "  the  knowledge  of  the  sub- 
stance or  composition  of  bodies ;  so  named  from  the 
Arabic  substantive  Kiyamon,  that  is,  the  substance  or 
constitution  of  anything,  from  the  root  Kama." 

From  Arabia  (where  it  is  supposed  to  have  origi- 
nated) alchemy  passed  into  Europe ;  and  from  the 
eleventh  to  the  sixteenth  century  inclusive  it  was  in 
the  highest  estimation,  and  numbered  among  its  vo- 
taries many  men  whose  names  are  still  distinguished 
for  their  learning.  In  this  period  were  discovered 
many  valuable  chemical  compounds,  and  the  uses  to 
which  they  can  be  applied.  Basil  Valentine,  a  bene- 
dictine  monk  of  Erfurt,  in  Germany,  appears  to  have 
been  possessed  with  the  true  love  of  science.  He 
discovered  antimony,  and  was  familiar  with  the  medic- 
inal preparations  of  it  now  in  use.  His  works  de- 
scribe correctly  the  modes  of  preparing  nitric,  and 
muriatic  and  sulphuric  acids. 

It  must  be  admitted,  however,  after  all,  that  the 
principal  objects  to  which  the  labors  of  the  alchemists 


ALCHEMT  AND   CHEMISTRT.  6*J 

were  directed  were  not  those  of  genuine  science.  The 
search  for  gold  and  the  means  of  obtaining  it  cheaply, 
made  them  untiring  pioneers  in  this  unexplored  region. 
For  centuries  they  worked  assiduously  to  discover  the 
alkaless,  or  universal  solvent.  In  this  they  failed,  but 
they  discovered  the  acids  described  by  Basil  Valentine, 
which  almost  answer  the  purpose.  They  sought,  for 
many  generations,  the  philosopher's  stone,  which  should 
transmute  the  base  metals  into  those  more  precious. 
It  eluded  their  search,  but  they  brought  up  from  the 
deep  unknown  a  vast  number  of  new  facts,  that  have 
proved  of  more  value  to  mankind  than  the  mysterious 
stone  could  ever  have  been.  So  they  found  not  the 
elixir  vit&,  which  should  cure  all  diseases  and  prolong 
life  indefinitely;  but  they  discovered  much  that  re- 
lieves mankind  of  pain  and  sickness,  and  thus  adds  to 
the  enjoyment  of  the  allotted  span  of  life.  Though 
they  worked  blindly  to  accomplish  selfish  ends,  the 
result  of  their  labors  was  the  clearing  of  the  field  and 
preparation  of  the  ground  for  the  grander  and  more 
universal  science  of  chemistry. 

A  most  unfortunate  accident,  which  has  occurred  at 
Prague  within  a  few  months,  recalls,  in  many  of  its 
details  and  circumstances,  the  quaint  traditions  that 
were  once  prevalent  in  regard  to  the  accidents  that 
overtook  the  mediaeval  alchemists.  Professor  Fischer, 
of  the  Prague  gymnasium,  a  young  man  only  twenty-five 
years  of  age,  and  of  the  highest  eminence  in  his  pro- 
fession—  that  of  chemistry  —  has  come  to  an  untimely 
end  under  the  most  melancholy  circumstances.  No 
one  needs  to  be  told  that  cyanide  of  potassium,  a  drug 
largely  used  in  photography,  is  a  poison  of  the  most 
deadly  character.  Its  active  ingredient  is  prussic  acid. 
Prussic  acid  in  its  pure,  or,  as  chemists  would  term  it, 


68  ALCHEMT  AND   CHEMISTRY. 

"  anhydrous  "  form,  is  a  substance  too  dangerous  to  be 
kept  or  even  manufactured.  If  a  capsule  containing 
a  wine-glass  full  of  pure  prussic  acid  were  broken  in 
the  pit  of  a  theater,  those  among  the  audience  who 
were  nearest  the  doors  might  escape,  but  the  great 
majority  would  be  killed  on  the  spot.  The  prussic 
acid  ordinarily  sold,  and  occasionally  used  for  killing 
dogs  and  cats,  contains  a  drop  of  the  pure  acid  to  a 
quarter  of  a  pint  of  water.  Pure  prussic  acid  no 
chemist  dare  keep.  He  might  as  well  compress  a  ton 
of  dynamite  into  a  single  cartridge,  supposing  such 
package  to  be  possible,  and  then  leave  the  deadly 
package  lying  loose  on  the  table. 

Cyanide  of  potassium  is  not,  like  prussic  acid,  vola- 
tile. It  is  a  white  powder,  rather  resembling  flour  or 
chalk.  It  is,  however,  so  poisonous  that  a  mere  pinch 
of  it  sprinkled  over  an  open  wound  or  sore,  will  cause 
almost  instantaneous  death ;  that  a  fragment  almost 
imperceptible  to  the  eye  will,  if  swallowed,  prove 
equally  fatal ;  and  that  its  mere  smell  has  before  now 
produced  instant  death.  It  was,  it  seems,  the  ambition 
of  Prof.  Fischer  to  discover  some  means  of  rendering 
cyanide  of  potassium  harmless.  We  can  do  this  with 
gunpowder  —  though  the  analogy  is  not  strictly  exact 
—  means  employed  with  gunpowder  being  mechan- 
ical, while  those  for  which  Prof.  Fischer  sought  were 
chemical.  We  know  what  happens  if  a  light  is  applied 
to  a  keg  of  gunpowder.  If,  however,  we  mix  the  pow- 
der with  four  or  five  times  its  bulk  of  saw-dust,  a  torch 
may  be  applied  to  it  with  impunity.  The  mechanical 
resistance  of  the  sawdust  makes  it  impossible  for  the 
explosion  to  at  once  spread  to  the  whole  mass,  and  the 
consequence  is  that  a  sort  of  splutter  ensues,  like  that 
of  a  squib  or  bluelight.  Professor  Fischer's  idea  was 


ALCHEMT  AND   CHEMISTRT.  69 

that  if  cyanide  of  potassium  were  thoroughly  mixed 
with  sal  ammoniac,  it  would  be  as  harmless  as  gun- 
powder mixed  with  sawdust,  but  would  still  remain 
equally  available  for  all  those  purposes  of  photography 
for  which  it  is  at  present  absolutely  indispensable. 

In  the  course  of  his  researches  Mr.  Fischer  made  a 
mixture  which,  in  his  own  mind,  he  felt  assured 
would  meet  the  conditions  of  his  problem.  He  com- 
pounded the  cyanide  with  some  other  substance,  and 
then,  turning  to  his  laboratory  assistant,  said : 

"  Science  has  not  so  far  advanced  as  to  be  even  able 
to  render  harmless  so  dangerous  an  agent  as  cyanide 
of  potassium." 

With  these  words  he  tasted  the  mixture,  and  was 
almost  in  an  instant  seized  with  the  most  violent  and 
excruciating  agonies.  He  at  once  implored  his  assist- 
ant to  send  for  medical  aid.  Cyanogen,  however, 
whether  as  prussic  acid  or  cyanide  of  potassium,  kills 
almost  instantaneously.  In  a  few  seconds  Professor 
Fischer  was  beyond  help.  We  are  told  that  there  is 
no  possible  reason  to  suppose  that  a  deliberate  suicide 
had  been  planned  and  carried  out  under  the  mask  of 
experiment.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  every  reason  to 
believe  that  the  Professor  has  met  the  fate  which  befell 
only  too  many  of  the  early  chemists  and  their  prede- 
cessors —  the  alchemists. 

We  know  now  what  will  happen  to  any  experiment- 
alist if  he  dips  blotting-paper  in  nitric  acid,  washes  it 
out,  and  then  incautiously  treads  upon  it.  What  hap- 
pened to  the  man  who  is  believed  —  for  his  record 
perished  with  him  —  to  have  first  discovered  fulminate 
of  silver  is  a  matter  of  scientific  record.  That  he  was 
engaged  in  researches  upon  the  fulminates,  and  more 
especially  upon  the  fulminates  of  the  higher  metals, 


70  ALCHEMT  AND   CHEMISTRT. 

was  well  known.  How  it  precisely  came  about  that  he 
disappeared  as  he  did,  will  remain  a  matter  of  conject- 
ure. There  came  one  day  a  puff,  a  slight  shock  and  a 
sharp  noise,  as  if  some  one  inflated  a  paper  bag  and 
then  burst  it  between  his  hands.  Of  the  professor 
himself,  of  his  laboratory,  of  his  apparatus  and  of  much 
less  within  a  radius  of  some  yards,  not  a  vestige  or  trace 
was  left. 

So  it  used  to  be  with  the  alchemists  —  the  inheritors 
of  the  hidden  wisdom  of  Bohne,  and  Roger  Bacon,  and 
Albertus  Magnus.  They  were  always  blowing  them- 
selves up,  or  asphyxiating  themselves  with  some  nox- 
ious vapor.  For  a  man  who  knows  nothing,  or  next  to 
nothing,  of  chemistry,  it  is  a  very  dangerous  game,  in- 
deed, to  mix  together  a  couple  of  substances  of  which 
he  knows  nothing  and  then  bray  them  in  a  mortar. 
Common  sulphur  is  harmless  stuff  enough,  so  is  char- 
coal, so  is  niter;  but  let  an  ignorant  man  mix  the  three 
and  apply  a  light  to  them,  and  the  result  will  much 
astonish  him. 

When  of  old  an  alchemist  was  reduced  to  fragments 
in  this  fashion  our  ancestors  had  an  easy  explanation. 
He  was  a  magician,  they  used  to  say,  and  the  devil  had 
come  suddenly  and  carried  him  off.  There  was  a  time, 
between  the  days  of  Roger  Bacon  and  those  of  Davy, 
Black  and  Cavendish,  when  the  foul  fiend  was  thus 
always  carrying  off  alchemists.  We  know  not  how  it 
happened.  If  a  man  goes  into  a  chemical  laboratory 
and  takes  up  a  big  beaker  and  pours  into  it  the  con- 
tents of  the  first  two  bottles  that  are  ready  at  his  hand, 
the  probabilities  are  that  he  will  be  reduced  to  atoms 
for  his  careful  consideration. 

Apart  from  the  sad  fact  that  a  young  man  with  a 
bright  and  brilliant  future  before  him  should  be  thus 


ALCHEMT  AND   CHEMISTRT.  7 j 

suddenly  cut  off,  the  death  of  Professor  Fischer  has 
another  moral.  Chemistry  —  whatever  Mr.  Lowe 
may  have  to  say  in  praise  of  civil  engineering  —  is  the 
science  of  the  world  and  of  the  future.  The  bridge 
which  takes  the  engineer  years  upon  years  to  construct, 
the  chemist  can,  in  so  many  sixteenths  of  a  second, 
reduce  to  atoms. 

Chemistry  has  given  us  the  balloon  ;  it  has  put  in 
our  hands  gunpowder,  nitro-glycerine,  dynamite  and, 
above  all,  fulminate  of  gold,  an  explosive  so  terrible 
that  if  an  ounce  of  it  be  left  in  a  stoppered  bottle,  its 
grains  falling  among  themselves  by  their  own  weight 
will  create  a  convulsion  sufficient  to  lay  a  city  in  ruins. 
It  has  given  us  poisons  so  subtle  that  were  we  to  em- 
ploy such  means  of  warfare,  we  could  sail  in  a  balloon 
over  the  camp  of  the  enemy  and  drop  upon  it  a  shell, 
the  bursting  of  which  would  kill  every  human  being 
within  a  mile  of  its  range. 

Then,  too,  chemistry  has  given  us  disinfectants.  To 
the  chemist  we  owe  carbolic  acid,  chloride  of  lime, 
and  permanganate  of  potash.  Chemists  have  taught 
us  to  disinfect  our  sewers  and  drains,  to  ventilate  our 
houses,  to  burn  gas  instead  of  oil,  and  to  light  our 
streets  with  what  is  more  powerful  than  gas  itself— 
the  electric  light.  It  is  to  chemistry,  indeed,  that  we 
owe  almost  all  the  comforts  of  everyday  life. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  possibilities  of  chem- 
istry are  almost  too  terrible  to  be  contemplated.  As 
the  science  at  present  stands,  any  student  can,  if  he 
have  access  to  a  well  stored  laboratory,  carry  away  in 
a  pill  box  sufficient  to  lay  New  York  in  ruins  or  to 
poison  the  whole  community  of  its  inhabitants.  The 
chemist  can,  as  every  schoolboy  knows,  convert  water 
into  ice  in  the  center  of  a  red-hot  crucible.  He  can 


72  ALCHEMT  AND  CHEMISTRT. 

construct  a  shell,  the  size  of  a  cricket-ball,  which  will 
explode  the  moment  it  touches  the  water  and  over- 
whelm in  flames  a  hostile  fleet.  Indeed,  the  chemist 
reduces  the  world  to  its  original  and  primal  elements. 
For  him,  even  more  than  for  the  engineer,  nothing  is  im- 
possible. And  yet  his  power,  vast  as  it  is,  is  limited. 
He  can  more  easily  destroy  than  construct.  He  can 
take  life,  but  he  cannot  give  it.  He  can  level  the 
city  with  the  plain,  but  he  cannot  build  it  again.  He 
can  create  -prussic  acid,  but  he  is  ignorant  of  its  anti-. 
dote.  He  is  like  the  fisherman  who  rashly  opened  the 
vessel  sealed  with  the  ring  of  Sulieman  Ben  Daoud. 
The  forces  at  his  control  are  beyond  his  command;  the 
powers  he  can  evoke  he  cannot  lay.  But  men,  in  striv- 
ing to  gain  much,  do  not  always  overreach  themselves ; 
if  they  cannot  arrive  at  the  inaccessible  mountain-top, 
they  may  perhaps  get  half  way  toward  it,  and  pick  up 
some  scraps  of  wisdom  and  knowledge  on  the  road. 
The  useful  science  of  chemistry  is  not  a  little  indebted 
to  its  spurious  brother,  alchemy.  Many  valuable  dis- 
coveries have  been  made  in  that  search  for  the  im- 
possible, which  might  otherwise  have  been  hidden  for 
centuries  yet  to  come.  Roger  Bacon,  in  searching 
for  the  philosopher's  stone,  discovered  gunpowder,  a 
still  more  extraordinary  substance.  Van  Helmont,  in 
the  same  pursuit,  discovered  the  properties  of  gas; 
Geler  made  discoveries  in  chemistry  which  were 
equally  important ;  and  Parcelsus,  amid  his  perpetual 
visions  of  the  transmutation  of  metals,  found  that 
mercury  was  a  remedy  for  one  of  the  most  odious  and 
excruciating  of  all  diseases  that  afflict  humanity. 

Let  us  not,  in  the  pride  of  our  superior  knowledge, 
turn  with  contempt  from  the  follies  of  our  predecessors. 
The  studies  of  the  errors  into  which  great  minds  have 


NATURE'S    TEACHINGS. 


73 


fallen  in  the  pursuit  of  truth  can  never  be  uninstruct- 
ive. 

As  the  man  looks  back  to  the  days  of  his  childhood 
and  his  youth,  and  recalls  to  his  mind  the  strange  notions 
and  false  opinions  that  marked  his  actions  at  the  time, 
that  he  may  wonder  at  them,  so  should  society  for  its 
edification  look  back  to  the  opinions  that  governed 
the  ages  fled.  He  is  but  a  superficial  thinker  who 
would  despise  and  refuse  to  hear  of  them  because  they 
were  absurd. 

No  man  is  so  wise  but  that  he  may  learn  some 
wisdom  from  his  past  errors,  either  of  thought  or 
action;  and  no  society  has  made  such  advances  as  to 
be  capable  of  no  improvement  from  the  retrospect  of 
its  past  folly  and  credulity. 


NATURE'S   TEACHINGS. 

N  a  curious  and  instructive  book,  entitled  "Na- 
ture's Teachings,"   by  Mr.  Wood,   it   is  shown 
that  scientific  inventions,  no  matter  how  original 
and  ingenious  they  may  appear  to  be,  have  each 
and  all  been  anticipated  in  the  world  of  nature. 

Countless  inventions  have  been  made  by  man 
without  his  having  any  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  the 
machine  which  in  its  first  idea  sprang  from  a  single 
brain,  and  was  afterward,  during  the  progress  of  time, 
slowly  improved  and  perfected  perhaps  by  many  suc- 
cessive generations  of  inventors,  had  been  in  use  in 


74  NATURE'S    TEACHINGS. 

nature,  in  a  more  perfect  form  than  art  could  accom- 
plish, for  ages  before  man  existed  on  the  earth.  There 
is  scarcely  a  principle  or  part  in  architecture  that  has 
not  its  natural  parallel  —  walls,  floors,  towers,  doors 
and  hinges,  porches,  eaves  and  windows ;  thatch,  slates 
and  tiles,  girders,  ties  and  buttresses,  bridges,  dams, 
the  pyramid,  and  even  mortar,  paint  and  varnish,  are 
all  there.  The  Eskimo  snow-house  is  an  exact  copy 
of  the  dwelling  the  seal  builds  for  her  tender  young; 
the  wasp's  nest  is  composed  of  several  stories  supported 
on  numerous  pillars.  The  well  known  instance  of  the 
building  of  the  Crystal  Palace  on  a  "  new  principle," 
by  Sir  Joseph  Paxton,  is  mentioned  by  the  author, 
and  is  one  of  the  many  cases  where  man  has  con- 
fessedly copied  nature  in  art ;  for  that  beautiful  struct- 
ure of  iron  and  glass  is  simply  an  adaptation  of  the 
frame  work  of  the  enormous  leaves  of  the  Victoria  regia 
plant,  which,  owing  to  its  formation,  combines  great 
strength  with  great  apparent  fragility.  The  present 
Eddystone  light-house,  which  has  so  long  withstood  the 
force  of  the  waves,  was  constructed  in  1 760  by  Smeaton 
on  an  entirely  new  idea,  the  model  being  taken  from  a 
tree-trunk,  and  the  stones  of  which  it  was  built  being 
strengthened  by  being  dovetailed  into  one  another,  as 
is  the  case  with  the  sutures  of  the  skull. 

The  study  of  the  eye  of  man,  as  well  as  of  birds, 
quadrupeds  and  insects,  has  shown  how  the  most 
beautiful  and  gradually  improved  inventions,  such  as 
the  telescope,  microscope,  pseudoscope,  stereoscope, 
multiplying  glass,  etc.,  had  already  been  perfected  in 
nature  for  ages.  By  the  combination  of  a  few  prisms 
and  a  magnifying  glass  is  produced  that  most  wonder- 
ful of  all  optical  instruments,  the  spectroscope,  which 
equally  reveals  to  us  the  constituents  of  the  most  dis- 


NATURE'S   TEACHINGS. 


76 


NATURE'S    TEACHINGS. 


tant  stars  or  the  coloring  matter  of  the  tiniest  leaf; 
and  yet  the  prismatic  colors  developed  by  this  marvel- 
ous instrument  have  existed  equally  within  the  glorious 
arch  of  the  rainbow  and  in  the  tiniest  dew-drop  as  it 
glitters  in  the  rising  sun,  ever  since  the  sun  first  shone 
and  the  first  rain  fell.  In  the  arts  of  peace  we  must 
look  to  the  animal  world  for  the  most  perfect  speci- 
mens of  tools  for  digging,  cutting  or  boring.  No  spade 
is  equal  to  the  foot  of  the  mole ;  and  our  hammers 
and  pincers  look  clumsy  indeed  beside  the  wood- 
pecker's beak  or  the  lobster's  claw.  Moreover,  the 
dwellings  in  the  construction  of  which  such  tools  are 
employed  are  models  of  beauty  and  ingenuity.  Sym- 
metrically shaped  pottery,  made  of  molded  mud  or 
clay,  is  found  in  nature  in  the  form  of  birds'  and  in- 
sects' nests;  in  the  jaws  of  the  skate  is  found  the 
crushing-mill,  and  in  the  tooth  of  the  elephant  the 
grindstone.  In  the  ichneumon-fly  and  the  grasshopper 
was  perfected  from  the  first  the  modern  agricultural 
improvement  on  the  hand-dibble,  the  seed-drill.  It  is 
only  of  late  years  that  the  use  of  the  teasel  has  been 
•superseded  by  machinery ;  and  brushes  and  combs, 
buttons,  hooks,  eyes,  stoppers,  filters,  etc.,  are  all  found 
in  nature.  The  principle  of  the  diving-bell  and  air- 
tube  exists  in  varieties  of  insects ;  birds  make  beds 
and  hammocks  and  even  sew,  and  the  bower-bird  emu- 
lates us  in  the  construction  of  ornamental  bowers  and 
gardens.  Graceful  fans  exist  in  plants  and  insects, 
cisterns  in  the  traveler's  tree  and  the  camel's  stomach, 
and  natural  examples  of  the  balloon  and  parachute. 
In  other  varieties  of  art,  nature  has  stolen  a  march  on 
man;  certain  insects  make  paper  of  different  textures; 
the  art  known  as  "nature-printing"  was  anticipated  in 
the  coal  measures.  Star-stippling,  as  now  used  in  engrav- 


NATURES    TEACHINGS.  77 

ing  to  produce  extra  softness  of  effect,  exists  in  utmost 
perfection  in  every  flower  petal.  The  caddis-worm,  com- 
mon in  all  our  fresh  waters,  constructs  for  itself  a  circular 
window-grating  which  admits  the  water  and  yet  pro- 
tects the  pupa  from  injury,  an  apparatus  exactly  like  the 
wheel-windows  of  a  Gothic  building.  There  is  a  bird  in 
South  Africa,  the  sociable  weaver  bird,  which  may  be 
looked  upon  as  a  dweller  in  cities,  each  pair,  up  to  the 
number  of  perhaps  three  hundred,  building  their  own 
nest;  while  the  whole  community  unite  to  form  a  com- 
mon roof  or  covering  of  thatch  made  from  a  coarse  kind 
of  grass,  to  protect  their  habitations  from  the  heavy 
tropical  rains.  The  driver-ants,  also  found  in  Africa, 
are  so  sensitive  to  the  fierce  heat  of  the  sun  that  when, 
on  their  march,  they  are  obliged  to  cross  open  ground, 
they  construct,  as  they  go  on,  a  light  gallery  which 
looks  very  much  like  the  lining  of  a  tunnel,  stripped 
of  the  surrounding  earth ;  and  if  they  come  to  thick 
grass,  which  makes  a  shelter  for  them,  they  take  advan- 
tage of  it,  and  only  resume  the  tunnel  when  they 
emerge  on  the  other  side.  They  are  called  driver- 
ants  because  they  drive  before  them  every  living 
creature.  There  is  not  an  animal  that  can  withstand 
the  driver-ants.  In  their  march  they  carry  destruction 
before  them,  and  every  beast  knows  instinctively  that 
it  must  not  cross  their  track.  They  have  been  known 
to  destroy  even  the  agile  monkey,  when  the  swarming 
host  had  once  made  a  lodgment  on  its  body,  and  when 
they  enter  a  pig-sty,  they  soon  kill  the  imprisoned  in- 
habitants, whose  tough  hides  cannot  shield  them  from 
the  driver-ants.  Fowls  they  destroy  in  numbers, 
killing  in  a  single  night  all  the  inhabitants  of  a  hen- 
roost, and,  having  destroyed  them,  have  a  curious 
method  of  devouring  them. 


yg  NATURE'S    TEACHINGS. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Savage,  who  has  experimented  upon 
these  formidable  insects,  killed  a  fowl  and  gave  it  to 
the  ants.  At  first  they  did  not  seem  to  pay  much 
attention  to  it,  but  he  soon  found  that  they  were  in 
reality  making  their  preparations.  Large  parties  of 
the  insects  were  detached  for  the  purpose  of  preparing 
a  road,  and  worked  with  an  assiduity  which  seems  to 
be  a  characteristic  of  these  energetic  insects.  Num- 
bers of  them  were  employed  in  smoothing  the  road  to 
the  nest  by  removing  every  obstacle  out  of  the  way, 
until,  by  degrees,  a  tolerably  level  road  was  obtained. 
They  are  possessed  of  strength  which  seems  gigantic, 
when  compared  with  their  size,  carrying  away  sticks 
four  or  five  times  as  large  as  themselves,  and  never 
failing  to  pounce  upon  any  grub  or  insect  that  might 
happen  to  be  lurking  beneath  their  shelter. 

Meanwhile  the  other  ants  were  busy  with  the  fowl. 
Beginning  at  the  base  of  the  beak,  they  contrived  to 
pull  out  the  feathers,  one  by  one,  until  they  stripped  it 
regularly  backward,  working  over  the  head,  along  the 
neck,  and  so  on  to  the  body. 

Not  less  wonderful  than  any  of  these  are  the  Trap- 
door spiders.  In  making  their  nests  they  begin  by 
sinking  a  shaft  in  the  ground  ;  it  is  then  lined  with  a 
silken  web,  and  closed  by  a  circular  door,  which  can 
scarcely  be  distinguished  from  the  moss  and  lichens 
which  grow  around.  The  hinges  are  most  exactly 
fitted,  and  the  spider  has  an  extraordinary  power  of 
closing  his  door  from  the  inside,  and  resisting  all  intru- 
sion. It  is  curious  that  as  we  advance  in  the  scale  of 
creation  these  wonderful  dwellings  cease.  Strange  to 
say,  the  creature  which  roams  at  will  through  the  for- 
est, and  has  no  settled  resting-place,  is  higher  in  the 
scale  of  life  —  according  to  the  recognized  scheme  of 


NATURE'S    TEACHINGS.  Jg 

naturalists  —  than  the  animal  that  is  mechanically  capa- 
ble of  constructing  the  most  perfect  abode  ! 

Mr.  Wood  reminds  us  that  though  the  march  of 
science  has  destroyed  much  of  our  belief  in  the  sweet 
old  tales  of  fairy-land,  yet  she  has  given  us  ample  com- 
pensation, inasmuch  as  the  "  fairy  tales  of  science  "  are 
in  reality  more  full  of  grace  and  poetry  than  any  of  the 
myths  that  delight  our  childhood. 

And  many  of  the  forms  which  meet  us,  if  we  apply 
ourselves  to  the  study  of  natural  history,  are  more  full 
of  quaint  or  graceful  fancy  than  the  wildest  tales  that 
have  ever  stirred  the  imagination  of  an  Eastern  story- 
teller. What  can  be  more  beautiful  than  the  little 
Velella,  a  sea-creature  like  a  circular  raft,  with  an  up- 
right membrane  answering  to  a  sail ;  "  semi-transparent, 
and  radiant  in  many  rainbow-tinted  colors."  What 
more  grotesque  than  the  Archer-fish,  which  possesses 
the  curious  power  of  feeding  itself  by  shooting  drops 
of  water  at  flies,  and  very  seldom  fails  to  secure  its 
prey ;  or  the  Angler-fish,  which  is  endowed  by  Nature 
with  a  rod  and  bait  ready  adjusted.  This  remarkable 
creature  has  an  etaormous  mouth ;  on  the  top  of  its 
head  are  certain  prolonged  cane-like  filaments,  beauti- 
fully set  in  a  ring  and  staple  joint,  so  as  to  turn  every 
way ;  and  at  the  end  of  these  singular  appendages  is  a 
little  piece  of  flesh,  which  when  waved  about  looks  like 
a  worm,  and  attracts  the  fish,  which  is  then  ingulfed  in 
the  huge  jaws  of  this  natural  angler. 

Many  interesting  forms  come  to  us  from  the  water- 
world,  suggestive  of  rafts,  boats,  oars,  and  anchors. 
An  insect  called  the  Water-boatman  is  itself  both  boat 
and  oars,  besides  being  its  own  passenger ;  the  legs 
with  which  it  rows  are  fashioned  in  most  exact  resem- 
blance to  the  blade  of  an  oar ;  or  we  should  rather  say 


8O  NATURE'S    TEACHINGS. 

that  the  blade  of  an  oar  resembles  the  leg  of  this 
Water-boatman.  The  fragile  creature  the  Portuguese 
Man-of-war,  which  traverses  the  surface  of  the  ocean 
like  a  bubble,  and  can  at  pleasure  distend  itself  with 
air  and  float,  or  discharge  the  air  and  sink,  shows  us 
the  principle  of  the  life-dress  in  which  Captain  Boyton 
made  his  daring  passage  across  the  English  Channel. 
Cables,  too,  we  have  in  plenty ;  the  Pinna,  a  kind  of 
mussel,  anchors  itself  to  some  rock  or  stone  with  a 
number  of  silk-like  threads  spun  by  itself;  and  the 
Water-snail  moors  itself,  perhaps  to  a  water-lily  leaf, 
by  means  of  a  gelatinous  thread,  slight,  almost  invis- 
ible, yet  very  strong,  which  it  can  elongate  at  pleasure. 
In  connection  with  this  there  is  a  very  curious  account 
of  a  spider,  which  shows  a  marvelous  power  of  adapta- 
tion. Its  wheel-like  net  was  in  danger  from  a  high 
wind.  The  spider  descended  to  the  ground,  a  depth 
of  about  seven  feet,  and  instead  of  attaching  its  thread 
to  a  stone  or  plant,  fastened  it  to  a  piece  of  loose  stick, 
hauled  it  up  a  few  feet  clear  of  the  ground,  and  then 
went  back  to  its  web.  The  piece  of  stick  thus  sus- 
pended, acted  in  a  most  admirable  manner,  giving 
strength  and  support,  and  at  the  same  time  yielding 
partly  to  the  wind.  By  accident  the  thread  became 
broken,  and  the  stick,  which  was  about  as  thick  as  an 
ordinary  pencil,  and  not  quite  three  inches  in  length, 
fell  to  the  ground.  The  spider  immediately  descended, 
attached  another  thread,  and  hauled  it  up  as  before. 
In  a  day  or  two,  when  the  tempestuous  weather  had 
ceased,  the  spider  voluntarily  cut  the  thread  and 
allowed  the  then  useless  stick  to  drop.  The  plan  here 
adopted  by  the  spider  is  frequently  followed  by  fisher- 
men who,  during  stormy  weather  at  sea,  ride  out  the 
gale  by  attaching  the  boat  to  the  yielding  nets. 


NATURE'S    TEACHINGS.  8  I 

It  is  natural  to  expect  that  in  the  art  of  war  and 
self-defense  nature  should  show  us  an  infinite  variety ; 
and  man  has  not  been  slow  in  using  his  powers  to  adapt 
the  same  principle  to  his  own  use.  If  man  has  armed 
himself  with  spears  or  daggers,  if  he  has  dug  pitfalls 
or  set  traps  in  hunting,  his  most  deadly  contrivances 
are  but  feeble  adaptations  of  the  weapons,  offensive 
and  defensive,  with  which  nature  has  endowed  her  off- 
spring. We  are  prepared  to  find  the  serpent's  fang  a 
terrible  instrument ;  and  we  are  not  surprised  that  the 
piercing  apparatus  and  sheaths  of  gnats  and  fleas,  or 
the  lancets  of  mosquitoes  when  magnified,  are  danger- 
ous and  bloodthirsty;  but  it  is  curious  to  find  how 
many  of  these  deadly  weapons  belong  to  the  vegetable 
world.  The  sword-grass  has  a  notched  blade  which, 
when  magnified,  is  almost  exactly  the  same  as  the 
shark-tooth  sword  of  Mangaia.  There  are  nettles 
whose  sting  is  sufficiently  venomous  to  cause  violent 
inflammation,  cramp,  and  even  death ;  and  it  is  well 
known  that  some  of  the  most  graceful  plants,  such  as 
Venus'  Fly-trap,  which  is  common  in  the  Carolinas, 
and  the  Drosera  or  Sundew,  one  of  the  British  plants, 
are  in  fact  nothing  but  skillful  traps  to  catch  and  digest 
unwary  insects. 

Some  of  the  most  curious  of  natural  defenses  are 
those  which  simulate  some  form  quite  different  from 
the  true  character  of  the  creature.  We  are  tempted 
to  think  of  the  Mighty  Book  of  Michael  Scott,  in 
which  was 

Much  of  glamour  might, 
Could  make  a  ladye  seem  a  knight, 
The  cobwebs  on  a  dungeon  wall 
Seem  tapestry  in  lordly  hall. 

And    nature,    in    her    turn    exercising    her    powerful 
glamour,   can    make   a   caterpillar   seem   a   twig,  or  a 
6 


82  NATURE'S    TEACHINGS. 

moth  look  exactly  like  a  withered  leaf.  The  Spider- 
crab  might  be  taken  for  a  moving  mass  of  zoophytes 
and  corallines,  so  thickly  is  its  shell  covered  with  ex- 
traneous growths.  The  leaf-insects  are  so  exactly 
like  leaves  that  the  most  experienced  eye  can  scarcely 
distinguish  them  from  the  leaves  among  which  they 
are  placed.  We  must  all  have  noticed  other  instances 
in  which  .the  colors  of  insects,  and  also  the  plumage  of 
birds,  harmonize  in  a  wonderful  way  with  the  scenes 
in  the  midst  of  which  they  are  placed.  Indeed  there 
seems  no  end  to  the  resemblance  which  may  be  traced 
between  the  works  of  nature  and  those  of  man.  Many 
of  the  most  obvious  of  these  strike  us  with  fresh  sur- 
prise when  we  find  the  comparison  carefully  drawn  out. 
What  a  freak  of  nature,  for  instance,  are  the  aphides  — 
the  milk-cows  of  a  species  of  ant ;  or  the  tailor-bird, 
which  sews  leaves  together  by  the  edges,  and  makes 
its  nest  inside  them !  It  is  sufficiently  strange,  too,  to 
remember  that  the  elaborate  process  of  paper-making 
was  carried  on  by  the  wasps  ages  before  it  was  known 
to  the  Chinese. 

One  of  the  most  powerful  of  all  natural  forces  is  that 
of  electricity ;  and  it  is  at  present  so  little  understood, 
and  so  full  of  mystery,  that  we  may  perhaps  suppose 
that  many  of  the  most  important  discoveries  of  the 
future  must  lie  in  that  direction.  But  nature  has 
known  how  to  turn  this  as  well  as  her  other  powers  to 
her  own  use.  She  has  her  living  galvanic  batteries, 
such  as  the  torpedo  and  the  electric  eel,  both  of  which 
secure  their  prey  by  paralyzing  it  with  their  electric 
discharges.  And  the  light  of  the  glow-worm  and  that 
of  the  fire-fly,  though  hitherto  it  has  been  a  puzzle  to 
naturalists,  may,  there  is  little  doubt,  be  referred  to 
animal  electricity. 


MORE    THAN  ONE    UNIVERSE.  83 

We  are  convinced  that  the  more  closely  the  con- 
nection between  nature  and  human  inventions  is  ob- 
served, the  more  perfect  and  the  more  numerous  will 
further  discoveries  be.  Endowed  with  high  moral 
capabilities  of  truth,  and  justice,  and  benevolence ; 
gifted  with  reasonable  faculties,  which  enable  him  to 
observe,  to  argue,  to  draw  conclusions,  it  is  for  man 
himself  to  work  according  to  the  same  laws  which, 
unconsciously  to  themselves,  govern  the  organizations 
of  the  lower  animal  and  the  vegetable  world. 


MORE  THAN  ONE  UNIVERSE. 

AZING  through  the  immeasurable  profundities 
of  space  at  such  a  sublime  object  as  the  Great 
Nebula  in  Orion,  one  feels  a  desire  at  least  to 
know,  if  possible,  something  about  the  distance  of 
that  vast  congeries  of  suns ;  to  know  if  it  can  be 
expressed,  if  not  in  millions,  at  least  in  billions,  or 
trillions,  or  in  quadrillions  of  miles.  But  these  figures 
convey  no  idea  to  the  mind.  In  order  to  obtain  even 
a  general  and  partial  idea  of  the  reality  of  the  awful 
gulf  of  space  which  separates  those  mysterious  worlds 
from  any  sun  in  this  part  of  the  universe,  we  must  drop 
such  little  units  of  measurement  as  our  mile  and  year, 
and  resort  to  tests  more  expressive.  The  only  adequate 
measure,  for  such  supracosmical  distances,  is  the  motion 
of  light  itself.  This  motion  is  at  the  rate  of  twelve 
million  miles  a  minute.  That  is  too  great  a  fact  for  any 


84  MORE'  THAN  ONE    UNIVERSE, 

full  realization  of  the  actual  meaning;  but  hold  it,  for 
a  while,  steadily,  and  grasp  its  full  measure,  if  possible. 
Light  —  even  the  light  of  those  great  suns  —  in 
traveling  from  the  Nebula  in  Orion,  is  so  far  absorbed 
in  its  stupendous  flight  through  the  celestial  spaces, 
that  nothing  less  than  the  very  best  telescopes  can 
reveal  to  the  eye  of  a  terrestrial  observer  the  fact  of 
the  existence  of  those  far  worlds.  And  the  light  of  the 
Nebula  in  Orion,  flashing  out  at  that  incomprehensible 
velocity,  cannot  reach  the  eye  of  any  one  on  our  globe 
within  a  period  of  less  than  sixty  thousand  years ! 
Twelve  million  miles  a  minute !  Seven  hundred  and 
twenty  million  miles,  or  nearly  eight  times  the  distance 
of  the  sun  from  the  earth,  in  a  single  hour !  Think  of 
that  lightning-like  rate  for  a  month  —  for  a  year  —  for  a 
hundred,  a  thousand  years  —  for  sixty  thousand  years  \ 
The  mind  itself  recoils,  aghast,  and  rebels  at  such 
unthought-like  thoughts.  It  is  ready  to  declare  that 
creations  placed  at  distances  so  infinite  must  be  outside 
the  universe.  What,  then,  must  be  the  distance  — 
what  the  dimensions,  of  that  inconceivable  universe  of 
suns  and  systems,  which  is  known  to  astronomers  as  the 
Great  Nebula  in  Orion!  —  an  object  so  infinitely  re- 
mote that  it  appears  but  as  a  faint  spot  upon  the  sky. 
However  it  may  be  with  those  unspeakably  distant 
aggregations  of  w'orlds  and  systems,  the  nebula  — 
whether  they  have  some  common  bond  of  union  with 
the  nearer  infinity  of  stars  that  we  can  see  and  which 
we  call  the  universe  —  however  that  may  be,  one  great 
discovery  has  now  been  pretty  conclusively  confirmed 
and  established.  What  that  audacious  universe-explorer, 
Herschel,  found  after  years  of  unwearied  search  and 
labor,  is  more  recently  proved  to  be  undoubtedly  a  fact ; 
the  whole  visible  universe  of  stars  is  moving  through 


MORE   THAN  ONE    UNIVERSE.  85 

space.  Not  one  is  stationary.  Every  central  sun,  in- 
cluding our  own  comparatively  small  and  inconspicuous 
ruler,  and  all  the  glittering  host  of  heaven,  with  that 
measureless  and  bewildering  galaxy  of  suns  called  the 
Milky  Way,  are  all  forever  sweeping  on,  in  periods 
which  stun  the  imagination,  around  some  one  great 
central  orb. 

The  unimaginably  distant  universes  called  nebulae, 
generally  too  remote  to  permit  even  light  itself — the 
light  of  their  central  suns  —  to  reach  us  here,  even 
through  the  telescope,  in  any  other  shape  than  a  pale, 
confused  blur,  or  fog  —  these  nebulae  are  not  visibly  in- 
cluded in  this  grand  movement  of  the  universe  of  which 
our  solar  system  forms  a  part.  They  are,  if  a  paradox 
may  be  permitted  where  nothing  else  will  convey  the 
idea,  separate  universes.  Ours,  the  entire  visible  uni- 
verse, is  included  in  this  mighty  revolution  of  which  we 
have  spoken ;  a  revolution  around  some  one  central 
world,  or  sun.  , 

Where,  and  what,  is  that  mysterious,  that  mighty 
world  —  that  grand  central  sun  ?  Is  it  "  the  way  where 
light  dwelleth  ?  "  Is  it  the  place  where  God  dwells  ? 
His  home,  O  fellow  mortal,  is  everywhere.  Let  him 
not  be  excluded  from  your  heart  nor  mine.  For  this  is 
a  truth  which  is  uttered  by  the  one  great  poet  of  his 
time  —  and  a  deeper  and  more  significant  truth  than 
the  world  understands  —  when  in  The  Higher  Panthe- 
ism, he  exclaims:  "Speak  to  Him  thou,  for  He  hears, 
and  Spirit  with  Spirit  can  meet  —  Closer  is  he  than 
breathing,  and  nearer  than  hands  and  feet" 

But  where  is  His  central  sun?  —  that  star  of  glory 
ineffable,  around  which  all  visible  worlds  are  revolving? 
Have  the  universal  labors  of  those  lonely  midnight 
sentinels  on  the  watchtowers  of  science,  the  astrono- 


86  MORE   THAN  ONE    UNIVERSE. 

mers,  revealed  at  last  the  direction  in  which  it  lies? 
Yes  !  —  and  they  have  done  more.  They  have  found  the 
particular  cluster,  or  constellation,  in  which  it  shines  —  for 
it  can  be  seen  from  our  Earth  —  and  have  even  ascer- 
tained, beyond  a  question,  the  identical  star  itself.  It  is 
the  one  central  orb  around  which  are  silently  wheeling 
all  the  visible  host  of  heaven.  We  have  not  here  the 
space  to  explain,  in  succession,  the  Titanic  problems 
and  obstacles  with  which  the  astronomers  have  boldly 
and  successfully  grappled,  in  their  determination  to 
pierce  the  secret  of  stellar  motion.  Herschel  first  and 
boldest  —  then,  after  a  half-century  interval,  Argelander 
of  Bonn,  and  the  Struves,  father  and  son,  of  Russia,  and 
finally  and  chiefly,  Maedler  —  all  these  have  resolutely 
taken  a  patient  and  determined  part  in  the  discovery  of 
these  sublime  laws  of  the  universe.  It  was  a  mighty 
work,  for  so  puny  a  creature  as  man  — a  mere  atom  on 
the  flying  world  where  his  insect-flash  of  life  in  the 
physical  body  is  passed ;  living  on  a  planet  that  is 
swiftly  revolving  on  its  axes,  and  flying  in  its  orbit 
round  a  central  luminary  that  is  itself,  as  the  truth  now 
appears,  speeding  almost  on  the  wings  of  light  in  har- 
monic union  with  a  mighty  and  unnumbered  brother- 
hood of  suns  and  systems,  round  some  conjectural 
center  whose  very  existence  now  first  began  in  these 
investigations  to  suggest  itself;  thus  situated,  the 
aspiring  earthly  investigator,  while  participating  him- 
self in  all  these  motions,  and  finding  also  the  necessity 
of  allowing  for  still  other  motions,  which  nothing  but 
the  attempt  to  obtain  stellar  parallax  could  have  re- 
vealed—  thus  situated  and  encompassed  with  difficulties, 
how  resolute  must  be  the  philosopher  who  would  seek 
to  resolve  these  high  mysteries  of  the  universe.  Yet 
these  gigantic  obstacles  have  been,  one  after  another, 


MORE    THAN   ONE    UNIVERSE.  87 

overcome ;  man  has  actually  measured  the  distances  of 
some  of  the  miscalled  fixed  stars.  A  thousand  years 
has  not  been  a  period  of  duration  sufficient  to  measure 
the  flight  of  those  sunbeams,  in  its  flashing  speed  to 
our  invisible  little  world,  though  that  flight  was  accom- 
plished at  the  rate  of  twelve  million  miles  a  minute. 
These  far  suns  are  all  found  to  be  in  swift  motion,  re- 
volving in  orbits  immeasurable,  and  our  own  solar  sys- 
tem is  sweeping  on  with  the  rest.  The  exact  direction 
in  which  our  sun  is  going  has  been  determined  ;  it  is 
going  at  the  rate  of  nearly  34,000,000  miles  .a  year 
toward  a  certain  star  in  the  constellation  Hercules. 
The  distance  of  that  star  is  such,  that  its  light  only 
reaches  us  in  a  period  of  forty-six  years  at  least ;  hence, 
it  will  require  a  period,  for  our  system  to  reach  that 
star,  of  1,800,000  years. 

This  step  was  but  a  part  of  the  problem.  The 
central  constellation  is  not  there.  Long  years  of 
patient  and  careful  labor,  repeatedly  corrected  for  all 
possible  errors,  led  Maedler  at  last  to  the  desired  spot  — 
the  mysterious  center  of  the  revolving  universe.  He 
had  expected  that  the  great  center  would  be  located 
within  the  limits  of  some  rich  star  cluster ;  he  was  not 
disappointed.  Led  at  first  to  the  conspicuous  red  star 
Aldebaran,  he  was  forced  to  abandon  that,  because  of 
its  own  too  rapid  motion  —  a  motion  swifter  than  that 
of  its  nearest  neighbors,  and  showing  it  to  be  nearer 
than  they.  Other  tests  must  be  tried ;  more  years  of 
investigation  must  pass,  before  the  central  secret  stands 
revealed.  At  last,  it  has  been  found.  One  star,  of  all 
the  glittering  host  of  heaven,  fulfills  perfectly  the  re- 
quired conditions.  Around  that  far  orb,  mysterious  alike 
in  its  distance  and  its  attractive  power,  revolve  all  the 
visible  suns  and  systems  of  space  —  our  own,  of  course, 


88  MORE   THAN  ONE    UNIVERSE. 

included.  Let  us  behold  that  governing  star.  On  any 
clear  night,  at  this  time  of  the  year,  at  any  hour  after 
dark  and  before  midnight,  turn  your  gaze  to  the  upper 
eastern  sky,  and  there  you  will  see  the  well-known 
sparkling  cluster  of  the  Pleiades.  At  eight  o'clock,  now,  it 
is  almost  at  the  zenith.  In  that  glittering  group,  spoken 
of  by  Job  of  old,  the  unassisted  eye  usually  detects 
seven  stars.  Keener  eyes  can  count  twelve ;  and  some, 
of  eagle  glance,  have  discerned  fourteen.  A  good  tele- 
scope reveals  the  constellation  as  consisting  of  hundreds 
of  flashing  suns.  Central  in  that  sparkling  cluster  is  the 
mysterious  king  of  suns  :  a  sun  ineffable.  It  is  the  star 
Alcyone !  Around  that  far  world  all  the  heavens  are 
revolving.  It  is  the  center  of  gravity.  It  may  not 
always  have  been  so.  It  is  so  now.  "It  is  at  present 
the  sun  about  which  the  universe  of  stars  composing 
our  astral  system  are  all  revolving."  "Just  where  the 
swiftest  motions  should  be  found,  there,"  says  Mitchel 
"  they  actually  exist !  either  demonstrating  the  truth  of 
the  theory,  or  exhibiting  the  most  remarkable  and  in- 
credible coincidences."  The  conclusion  of  that  great 
astronomer  confirms  that  of  the  European  astronomers 
who  had  been  working  out  this  stupendous  problem  : 
the  central  sun  has  been  found.  It  is  a  constellation 
enormously  distant,  but  by  no  means  so  remote  as  some 
others  whose  distance  has  been  in  a  general  way  com- 
puted. As  to  this  part  of  the  problem,  we  end  with 
a  quotation  from  the  lofty  spirit  we  have  named 
Mitchel :  "  The  known  parallax  of  certain  fixed  stars 
gives  to  us  an  appropriate  value  of  the  parallax  of 
Alcyone,  and  reveals  to  us  the  distance  of  the  grand 
center.  Such  is  the  enormous  interval  separating  the 
sun  from  the  central  star  about  which  it  performs  its 
mighty  revolution,  that  the  light  from  Alcyone  requires 


BOTTOM  OF   THE   OCEAN. 


89 


a  period  of  five  hundred  and  thirty-seven  years  to 
traverse  the  distance !  And  if  we  are  to  rely  on  the 
angular  motion  of  the  sun  and  system,  as  already 
determined,  at  the  end  of  18,200,000  years  this  great 
luminary,  with  all  its  planets,  satellites  and  comets,  will 
have  completed  one  revolution  around  its  grand  center  ! " 


BOTTOM  OF  THE  OCEAN. 

[HE  discoveries  made  by  the  Challenger  explor- 
ing party  in  their  seventy  thousand  miles 
research,  and  investigations  five  miles  below 
the  surface  of  the  ocean,  are  of  a  very  interest- 
ing nature  to  the  lovers  of  science.  Professor 
Huxley,  who  was  of  the  party,  says  that  some  of  the 
discoveries  which  have  been  made  by  the  Challenger 
are  undoubtedly  such  as  to  make  us  all  form  new  ideas 
of  the  operation  of  natural  causes  in  the  sea.  Take, 
for  example,  the  very  remarkable  fact  that  at  great 
depths  the  temperature  of  the  sea  always  sinks  down 
pretty  much  to  that  of  freezing  fresh  water.  This  is  a 
very  strange  fact  in  itself,  a  fact  which  certainly  could 
not  have  been  anticipated  a  priori. 

Take,  again,  the  marvelous  discovery  that  over  large 
areas  of  the  sea  the  bottom  is  covered  with  a  kind  of 
chalk,  a  substance  made  up  entirely  of  the  shells  of 
minute  animals  —  a  sort  of  geological  shoddy  made  of 
the  cast-off  clothes  of  these  animals.  The  fact  has 
been  known  for  a  long  time,  and  men  were  greatly 
puzzled  to  know  how  the  substance  collected  there. 


90  BOTTOM  OF   THE   OCEAN. 

But  the  researches  of  the  Challenger,  he  says,  have 
proved  beyond  question,  as  far  as  he  can  see,  that  the 
remains  in  question  are  the  shells  of  organisms  which 
live  at  the  surface  and  not  at  the  bottom,  and  that  this 
deposit,  which  is  of  the  same  nature  as  the  ancient 
chalk,  differing  in  some  minor  respects,  but  essentially 
the  same,  is  absolutely  formed  by  a  rain  of  skeletons- 

These  creatures,  the  professor  thinks,  all  live  within 
one  hundred  fathoms  of  the  surface ;  and  being  subject 
to  the  fate  of  all  living  things,  they  sooner  or  later  die, 
and  when  they  die  their  skeletons  are  rained  down  in 
one  continual  shower,  falling  through  a  mile  or  couple 
of  miles  of  sea  water.  How  long  they  take  about  it 
imagination  fails  one  in  supposing,  but  at  last  they  get 
to  the  bottom,  and  there,  piled  up,  form  a  great  stratum 
of  substance  which,  if  upheaved,  would  be  exactly  like 
chalk.  Here  we  have  a  possible  mode  of  construction 
of  the  rocks  which  compose  the  earth  of  which  we  have 
had  previously  no  conception. 

Another  important  fact  was  the  discovery  that  ani- 
mal life  exists  at  all  depths  of  the  ocean.  The  idea 
has  been  prevalent  heretofore  that  there  are  no  animals 
at  the  great  depth  of  five  miles,  but  the  dredgings  of 
the  Challenger  brought  to  light  species  of  animals 
never  before  seen,  which  has  put  at  rest  the  queries 
as  regards  the  possibility  of  animal  life  existing  at  the 
wonderful  depth  above  mentioned. 

The  bottom  of  the  sea  is  an  enchanted  country ; 
the  animals,  its  inhabitants,  are  self-luminous ;  they 
thunder  upon  their  enemies  from  a  distance;  they 
harden  themselves  into  stone. 

We  read  that  Daphne  was  transformed  into  a  laurel. 
The  narrators  of  this  fable  have  not  depicted  for  us  the 
sufferings  of  that  unfortunate  maiden,  her  languor,  the 


92  BOTTOM  OF   THE   OCEAN. 

growing  numbness  of  her  limbs,  her  feet  dried  up 
and  spreading  into  long  roots,  her  arms  shaping  into 
branches  covered  with  a  polished  bark.  But  this 
dream  is  realized  in  the  ocean  every  moment.  There 
is  no  region  with  a  favorable  climate  and  an  agreeable 
site,  where  animals  are  not  found  living  in  colonies, 
and  working,  by  their  petrifaction,  at  the  construction 
of  rocks  and  reefs  of  an  immense  extent. 

Heat  favors  their  development.  No  part  of  the 
world  presents  them  in  the  same  marvelous  variety 
as  the  great  ocean  and  the  Indian  seas.  If  we 
direct  our  gaze  into  the  liquid  crystal  of  the  Indian 
ocean,  we  shall  there  see  realized  the  most  wonderful 
dreams  and  fairy-tales  of  our  childhood.  Fantastic 
bushes  bearing  living  flowers,  the  massive  structure  of 
the  meandrina  and  astrea  contrasting  with  the  branchy 
tufts  of  the  explanaria,  which  blossoms  in  the  form  of 
cups,  with  the  madriporidse,  of  elegant  structure  and 
ever-varying  ramifications.  Everywhere  throughout 
this  region  the  eye  is  charmed  with  the  brilliancy  of 
color ;  delicate  shades  of  sea-green  alternating  with 
browns  and  yellows,  rich  purple  tints  passing  from  the 
most  vivid  red  to  the  deepest  blue ;  nullipores,  yellow 
or  pink,  delicately  touched  as  the  peach,  covering  de- 
caying plants  with  a  fresh  development  of  life,  and 
themselves  enveloped  with  a  black  tissue  of  retipores 
resembling  the  most  delicate  carvings  in  ivory. 

Near  by  wave  the  yellow  and  lilac  fans  of  the  gor- 
gona,  worked  like  jewelry  in  filigree.  Strewed  over  the 
sandy  bottom  are  thousands  of  sea-stars  and  sea-ur- 
chins of  the  most  curious  forms  and  varied  colors.  The 
flustra,  the  eschara  attached  to  branches  of  coral-like 
mosses  and  lichens,  and  the  patellidse  striped  wfch  yel- 
low and  purple,  look  like  great  cochineal  insects  on  the 


BOTTOM  OF   THE   OCEAN.  93 

ground.  Then  the  sea  anemones,  looking  like  immense 
cactus-flowers,  brilliant  with  the  most  glaring  colors, 
adorn  the  clefts  of  the  rocks  with  their  waving  crowns, 
or  spread  out  their  blooms,  till  the  sea-bottom  resem- 
bles a  border  of  many-colored  ranunculuses.  Around  the 
coral-bushes  play  the  humming-birds  of  the  ocean  —  bril- 
liant little  fishes,  now  sparkling  with  metallic  red  or  blue, 
now  with  a  golden  green,  or  with  the  soft  hue  of  silver. 

All  this  marvelous  manifestation  of  life  is  displayed 
in  the  midst  of  the  most  rapid  alternations  of  light  and 
shade,  changing  with  every  breath,  with  every  undula- 
tion that  ripples  the  surface  of  the  sea.  When  daylight 
declines,  the  shadows  of  night  spread  in  the  deep 
waters,  the  exquisite  garden  which  they  cover  is  lighted 
up  with  new  splendors.  The  medusse  and  the  micro- 
scopic crustaceans  shine  in  the  darkness  like  fairy-stars. 
The  pennatula,  which  during  the  day  is  of  a  reddish 
cinnabar  color,  floats  in  a  phosphorescent  light ;  every 
corner  of  the  sea-bottom  sends  out  its  ray  of  color ; 
objects  that  look  brown  and  dull  in  the  universal  radi- 
ation of  daylight,  now  shine  with  the  most  charming 
green,  yellow,  and  red  light ;  and  to  complete  the  mar- 
vels of  this  enchanted  night-scene,  the  large  silver  disc 
of  the  moon  of  the  sea  (commonly  called  the  moon- 
fish),  moves  softly  through  the  whirling  vortices  of  lit- 
tle stars.  The  most  luxuriant  vegetation  of  the  tropics 
fails  to  develop  so  much  wealth  of  form,  and  lags  far 
behind  the  magnificent  gardens  of  the  ocean,  composed 
almost  entirely  of  animals,  for  variety  and  brilliance  of 
color. 

Near  Amsterdam  island,  in  the  South  Indian  ocean, 
the  ship  encountered  a  belt  of  gigantic  sea-weed,  of 
which  single  plants  are  said  to  attain  a  length  of  a  thou- 
sand feet  and  a  thickness  equal  to  that  of  a  man's  body. 


94 


PEARL-FISHING  IN  MEXICO. 


They  found  the  average  depth  of  the  Atlantic  to  be 
about  two  thousand  fathoms,  and  that  of  the  Pacific  to 
be  five  hundred  fathoms  more.  The  general  character- 
istics of  the  two  great  bodies  of  water  proved  to  be  the 
same.  The  bottoms  of  each  are  tolerably  level  ex- 
panses with  slight  undulations,  and  the  tests  of  temper- 
"ature  at  different  depths  prove  conclusively,  they  think, 
that  the  great  mass  of  the  water  found  in  the  troughs 
of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  is  derived  from  the  South- 
ern sea.  At  various  localities  in  the  Pacific  and  Atlan- 
tic the  temperature  of  the  water  precisely,  or  very 
nearly  so,  agreed  with  water  at  the  same  depth  in  the 
Southern  sea,  and  the  temperature  of  the  bottom  water 
in  the  Atlantic  or  the  Pacific  at  any  one  locality  de- 
pended apparently  upon  the  height  of  the  barrier  which 
separated  that  particular  portion  of  the  ocean  from  the 
Southern  sea  from  whicih  it  is  derived.  Thus  in  this 
way  all  over  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  oceans  they  could 
almost  tell  by  the  temperature  of  the  water  the  height 
of  the  ridges  which  separated  it  from  its  source. 


PEARL-FISHING   IN    MEXICO. 

REPARATORY  to  entering  on  pearl-fishing,  a 
contractor  must  obtain  a  concession,  and  take 
care  to  be  provided  with  such  articles  as  the 
Indians  most  desire  —  eatables,  tools,  coarse  dresses 
and  toys.  The  concession  is  obtained  by  secur- 
ing a  fifth  of  the  produce  of  the  fishery  to  the 
authorities  of  La  Paz,  and  then,  at  an  expense  of  five 
dollars,  a  right  to  fish  in  a  certain  spot  is  acquired. 


PEARL-FISHING  IN  MEXICO.  95 

A  scene  is  presented  by  the  encampment  of  the 
Indian  divers  and  their  families,  who  are  mainly  sup- 
ported through  the  year  by  the  fishery.  They  im- 
patiently await  the  coming  of  their  employers,  and 
their  approach  is  the  signal  for  a  joyful  tumult.  All 
join  in  a  loud  shout,  and  many  plunge  into  the  sea, 
to  show  by  their  various  performances  their  superior 
fitness  for  the  labors  they  are  anxious  to  undertake. 

A  selection  is  made,  and  the  contractor  takes  with 
him  those  he  deems  the  ablest  hands,  pursued  by  the 
reproaches  and  taunts  of  those  who  consider  they  are 
unfairly  neglected.  The  conditions  of  the  engagement 
secure  the  divers'  maintenance  during  the  fishery,  and 
a  share  of  the  unopened  oysters.  These  requirements 
granted,  shaking  hands  seals  or  completes  the  engage- 
ment. 

It  is  from  the  i5th  of  May  to  the  i5th  of  August 
that  the  Mexican  pearl-fishing  is  prosecuted.  Then 
it  is  that  calm  weather  and  cloudless  sky,  which  are 
indispensable  to  success,  may  be  expected.  Early  in 
the  afternoon  a  breeze  frequently  comes  from  the 
northeast.  Should  it  rain,  the  work  is  partially  sus- 
pended, and  the  evening  is  occupied  in  opening  the 
oysters  collected  in  the  early  part  of  day. 

The  day  after  the  arrival  of  the  divers,  the  places 
most  likely  to  prove  favorable  are  sought  by  ex- 
perienced eyes,  and  a  sort  of  rehearsal  is  gone  through 
by  the  Indians.  They  plunge  in  to  a  moderate  depth, 
and  remain  but  a  short  time  under  water.  Then  they 
prepare  themselves  for  the  severer  task.  Their  chil- 
dren, almost  amphibious,  remain  on  the  bank,  and 
thus  learn  to  take  up  the  calling  of  a  diver  at  some 
future  day. 

The  Indians  dive  fearlessly,   being  accustomed   to 


96  PEARL-FISHING  IN  MEXICO. 

such  exercises  from  their  infancy,  plunging  to  a  depth 
of  from  two  to  five  fathoms.  By  two  cords,  a  diving- 
stone  and  a  net  are  connected  with  the  boat,  which 
always  accompanies  them.  The  diver,  putting  the 
tOes  of  his  right  foot  on  the  rope  of  the  diving-stone, 
and  the  left  on  the  net,  seizes  the  two  cords  with  one 
hand,  and  closing  his  nostrils  with  the  other,  goes  to 
the  bottom  of  the  water,  where  he  brings  the  net  round 
his  neck  and  collects  and  puts  into  it  as  many  shells 
as  he  can  reach  while  he  remains  below,  which  is 
generally  about  two  minutes.  On  emerging  from  the 
sea,  he  discharges  water  from  his  mouth  and  nose,  and 
sometimes  blood,  which,  however,  does  not  deter  him 
from  presently  resuming  his  labors.  Some  men  will 
frequently  make  fifty  trips  in  one  forenoon. 

A  single  plunge  enables  a  diver  to  secure  five  or 
six  oysters,  sometimes  seven  or  eight,  but  rarely  more. 
The  boats  which  attend  them  are  managed  by  rowers, 
or  are  secured  by  an  anchor  or  stone  fastened  to  a 
rope.  Some  of  the  divers  have  a  rope  around  them, 
attached  to  the  boat.  The  most  prudent  course  is  to 
be  as  little  encumbered  as  possible,  that  they  may 
avoid  the  sharks  and  dogfish.  They  are,  however, 
generally  armed  with  a  short  stick,  made  of  hard  wood 
and  pointed.  A  lookout  or  watchman  is  in  each  boat, 
to  give  a  signal  to  those  under  water  when  danger  is 
apparent. 

The  gangs  of  younger  divers  divide  into  three 
parties,  and  rest  for  longer  periods.  They  go  to  their 
labor  fasting.  When  below,  they  of  course  snatch  the 
oysters  up  as  quickly  as  possible,  using  the  short  stick 
they  carry  to  separate,  when  necessary,  the  oysters 
from  any  other  substance.  Finding  an  oyster  likely 
to  contain  a  pearl,  the  stick  is  sometimes  used  to  open 


NEST-MAKING  FISHES. 


97 


it,  and  the  diver  will  reappear  with  a  shell  or  two,  and 
tell  that,  during  three  minutes  immersion,  he  could 
discover  nothing  but  shells.  The  fraud  is  often  dis- 
covered, and  the  stick  freely  used  on  the  head  or  back 
of  the  cheat. 


NEST-MAKING    FISHES. 

[HE  usual  habit   of    fishes  is  to  lay  their  eggs  in 
the  water,  and  leave   them    to    hatch    without 
taking  any  trouble ;  but  there  are  a  few  excep- 
tions to  this  rule. 

The  fish  that  in  tropical  countries  marches  over 
the  land  to  find  a  fresh  pool  of  water  when  the  one  in 
which  it  lived  has  dried  up,  is  one  of  the  exceptions. 
It  builds  a  nest  for  its  young  of  the  fibers  of  the  rushes 
and  the  water  plants.  It  is  like  a  hollow  ball. 

There  is  another  fresh-water  fish  called  the  stickle- 
back, an  engraving  of  which  we  give,  which  makes  a 
kind  of  nest  among  the  plants  that  grow  in  the  water, 
and  the  mother-fish  remains  in  the  nest  in  the  manner 
shown  in  the  picture.  It  is  a  very  bold,  lively  little 
thing,  scarcely  knowing  fear ;  indeed,  it  is  pugnacious 
to  an  absurd  degree. 

The  most  interesting  fact  connected  with  the  stickle- 
back is,  that  it  builds  nests  for  the  protection  of  its 
young.  The  nest  is  made  of  delicate  vegetable  fibers, 
matted  into  a  circular  mass,  cemented  by  mucus  from 
the  body,  and  is  an  inch  or  more  in  diameter.  The 
male  does  the  work  of  building,  and  then  stands  guard 
while  the  female  is  in  the  nest,  and  it  fights  everything 


NEST-MAKING  FISHES. 


that  comes  along,  and  drives  away  intruders  with  great 
ferocity,  frequently  putting  in  its  head  to  see  if  all  is 
right,  and  fanning  the  water  with  the  pectoral  and 
caudal  fins,  to  secure  free  circulation  and  ventilation 
for  the  eggs.  It  is  frequently  seen  shaking  up  the 


THE   STICKLEBACK. 


eggs,  and  carrying  away  impurities  in  its  mouth.  The 
young  are  hatched  in  two  or  three  weeks ;  if  any  of 
the  small  fry  get  outside  of  the  nest,  they  are  instantly 
seized  in  the  mouth  of  the  parent  and  put  back.  There 
are  about  forty  young  to  a  nest. 

The  fish  takes  as  good  care  of  its  young  as  does  the 


FISHING  IN   THE  SARGOSSA  SEA.  99 

hen  of  her  chickens.  It  is  the  most  combative  of  crea- 
tures, especially  during  the  breeding  season,  when  every 
adult  stickleback  challenges  every  other  of  his  own  sex, 
and  they  do  little  but  fight. 


FISHING  IN  THE   SARGOSSA   SEA. 

IEUTENANT  MAURY  says:  "There  is  a 
river  in  the  midst  of  the  sea."  Such  is  the 
Gulf-stream,  with  its  margin  in  many  places  so 
distinctly  marked,  that  you  can  readily  dis- 
cern that  a  ship  floats  half  in  the  river  and  half  in 
the  sea.  Ay,  and  there  is  a  sea  in  the  midst  of 
the  ocean,  and  in  the  sea  a  flower  garden.  The 
sea  is  named  Sargossa,  and  the  flower  garden  is  of  sea- 
weed, laid  out  in  ever-varying  form. 

There  is  a  long  scientific  story  about  how  the  Gulf- 
stream  is  ridged  like  a  house-roof,  and  about  how  the 
drift  of  spars  and  sea-weed,  etc.,  show  this,  by  floating 
on  the  different  slopes,  but  never  crossing  the  stream  ; 
and  then  they  tell  about  this  Gulf-stream  curving  across 
the  Atlantic,  till  it  meets  a  current  that  sets  southward 
along  the  coast  of  Africa,  until  it  in  turn  meets  another 
current  that  makes  its  way  westward  across  the 
Atlantic,  and  joins  yet  another  current  setting  north- 
ward, toward  the  Caribbean  sea,  which  completes  the 
marvelous  circuit  of  currents. 

Stir  the  water  in  a  tub  round  and  round  violently, 
and  throw  in  bits  of  straw  and  small  sticks,  and  you 


100  FISHING  IN  THE  SARGOSSA  SEA. 

see  them  all  whirl  toward  the  middle  of  the  water,  and 
finally  reach  the  center.  Thus  spars,  drift-wood  and 
sea-weed  getting  on  the  inner  side  of  this  circle  of  cur- 
rents, must  naturally  be  kept  there,  and  everlastingly 
float  in  the  center  of  this  gigantic  belt  of  waters.  The 
space  enclosed  by  these  currents  covers  many  degrees 
of  latitude  and  longitude,  and  is  called  the  Sargossa  sea. 

Now  all  this  may  be  a  very  unscientific  way  of 
telling  what  the  Sargossa  sea  is,  and  is  quite  as  indefi- 
nite as  to  its  whereabouts.  I  cannot  locate  it  very 
precisely,  because  my  own  belief  is  that  it  varies  at 
times  in  latitude,  if  not  in  longitude.  These  cur- 
rents—  as,  for  instance,  the  Gulf-stream  itself — do 
not  all  the  year  flow  in  the  same  tract,  but  are  a  por- 
tion of  the  year  much  farther  north  than  at  other 
times.  Of  course,  the  Sargossa  sea  must  vary  with 
its  boundary  belt  of  currents.  But,  substantially,  this 
sea  extends  from  the  Cape  de  Verde  islands  to  the 
Bermudas,  and  lies  in  what  are  known  as  the  "  Horse 
Latitudes." 

Gentle  reader,  if  you  do  not  know  what  the  horse 
latitudes  are,  do  not  sing  the  doxology,  but  be  thank- 
ful that  you  have  not  experienced  all  that  is  gloomy 
and  depressing,  and  patience-trying  in  this  world. 
They  say  these  came  to  be  named  "  Horse  Latitudes  " 
because  formerly,  when  men  used  to  carry  horses 
to  the  West  Indies,  so  many  of  them  died  in  this 
portion  of  the  ocean.  It  is  familiarly  known  at  sea, 
too,  as  the  Doldrums.  A .  succession  of  squalls  and 
calms  (especially  of  the  calms)  makes  you  often 
seriously  wonder  if  you  will  ever  get  away  from  that 
quarter  of  the  globe,  and  to  begin  to  inquire  how 
many  days'  provision  there  is  aboard  your  ship.  Do 
you  wonder,  then,  we  went  to  fishing  ? 


FISHING  IN   THE  SARGOSSA  SEA.  IOI 

But  the  flower  garden !  Well,  nearly  all  over  the 
surface  of  this  Sargossa  sea  floats  a  species  of  sea-weed. 
It  is  a  coarse,  vine-like  thing,  with  a  berry  about  the 
size  of  a  huckleberry,  but  is  of  a  dusky  straw  color. 
There  were  great  unbroken  patches  of  this  that  were 
extensive  enough,  and  looked  firm  enough  for  a  game 
of  base  ball;  and  then  there  were  delicate  strips  in 
every  variety  of  combination  and  form,  in  their  varied 
shapes  looking  like  a  finely  designed  flower  garden. 
It  was  a  panorama  of  artistic  gardening,  and  many  a 
new  and  neat  form  might  have  been  learned  here  for 
use  in  the  lawns  and  gravel  walks  of  a  more  substan- 
tial kind  of  park  and  lawn  culture. 

This  sea-weed,  nay,  this  mistletoe  of  the  sea,  is  a 
sensitive  and  delicate  thing,  though  it  does  not  look 
it.  It  will  not  live  even  in  a  tub  of  salt  water,  unless 
the  water  be  renewed  some  three  times  a  day.  It  is 
a  living,  rootless  plant,  or  flower  (or  animal  ?)  that 
must  be  fed  with  some  sort  of  nourishment  which  it 
derives  from  its  mother,  the  sea. 

If,  however,  it  be  hermetically  sealed  in  sea-water, 
it  does  not  die,  but  may  be  kept  for  years.  I  have 
some  now  in  bottles,  which  is  as  beautiful  as  the  day 
I  procured  it.  But  other  portions  that  I  put  even  in 
salt  water,  not  made  air-tight,  soon  turned  black, 
withered  and  died. 

Sometimes  this  sea-weed  would  be  driven  by  the 
waves  and  wind  into  long,  narrow  strips ;  and  it  would 
always  indicate  a  shift  of  the  wind  sooner  than  the 
dog-vane  at  the  masthead.  We  found  this  as  far  north 
as  about  two  thousand  miles  from  the  coast  of  Eng- 
land, which  was,  we  are  informed,  very  unusual. 

Well,  but,  you  say,  what  about  the  fishing?  For 
what  and  how  did  you  fish?  To  say  nothing  about 


IO2  FISHING  IN   THE  SARGOSSA   SEA. 

sharks  and  grampus,  etc.,  I  answer,  we  fished  for  sea- 
weed. At  first,  we  tried  great  bunches  of  huge  brass 
hooks,  but  these  soon  broke,  and  left  us  minus  "  bob, 
line  and  sinker."  Then  we  did  it  after  a  less  aesthetic 
mode.  We  got  the  log-lines  and  fastened  to  them  the 
iron  oar-locks  from  the  life-boats,  and  heaved  these, 
harpoon  fashion,  into  a  bed  of  weed,  and  dragged  it  on 
deck.  Then  we  searched  this  for  shrimps  and  infinites- 
imal fishes.  Of  these  last  we  found  many  perfect 
fishes,  not  perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in  length,  that 
suggested  many  a  reflection  on  the  minute  care  of 
Divine  Providence,  which  could  watch  over  such  tiny 
creatures  all  alone,  out  in  that  great  sea.  Yet,  after  all, 
what  were  we  but  other  tiny  beings  compared  to  the 
vast,  vast  ocean  on  whose  bosom  we  were  rocked  ? 

And  then  we  fished  for  jelly-fish  —  not  your  great 
plebeian  blubber,  or  bladder,  or  bubble,  the  mushroom- 
shaped  nettle,  that  annoys  you  when  bathing  at  New- 
port or  Cape  May;  we  had  better  taste  than  that. 
That  for  which  we  fished  was  a  tube-like,  gelatinous 
creature,  with  a  single  intestine,  and  which,  by  a  pecu- 
liar contraction  of  its  body,  propelled  itself,  lying  hori- 
zontally, through  the  water.  They  were  of  beautiful 
colors,  for  the  most  part  being  of  deep  purple  in  the 
center,  and  shading  off  to  pure  white  gelatine  at  the 
circumference.  We  frequently  saw  scores  or  hundreds 
of  these  joined  together,  and  looking  like  a  great  sea- 
serpent  as  they  rose  and  fell  and  propelled'  themselves 
through  the  water.  What  the  object  of  thus  being 
united  was  we  could  not  tell,  unless  it  was  that,  by 
simultaneous  contraction,  they  could  propel  themselves 
more  steadily  and  swiftly  through  the  water,  and  be 
less  driven  about  by  the  violence  of  the  waves. 

And  then  we  fished  for  the  nautilus  —  the  Portu- 


SUBTERRANEAN  CAVES.  1 03 

guese  man-of-war,  the  fairy  of  the  jelly-fish  tribe,  the 
mimic  sailor,  who  now  furls  sail,  and  drops  anchor  at 
every  angry  wind,  and  anon  sets  sail,  which  have  more 
exquisite  tints  than  rainbow  hues,  and  rides  gallantly 
over  the  waves.  He  is  a  good  sailor,  and  knows  even 
how  to  right  ship  if  blown  on  beam  ends.  Thus, 
good  reader,  we  fished,  not  for  fabulous  things 
in  a  fabulous  sea,  but  whiled  away  many  a  dull 
hour  amid  the  depressing  calms  of  the  equatorial 
ocean,  in  studying  some  illustrated  pages  of  God's 
wonder-book  of  the  world,  and  ever  taking  our  micro- 
scopes to  see  deeper  and  yet  deeper  into  the  mystery 
of  being.  I  do  not  wish  you  in  the  Sargossa  sea,  good 
readers,  but  can  only  hope,  if  ever  you  be  there,  you 
may  be  as  jolly  and  as  lucky  fishermen  as  were  we  who 
fished  there  several  months  since. 


SUBTERRANEAN    CAVES. 

UBTERRANEAN  caverns  have,  in  all  ages  of 
the  world's  history,  been  objects  of  interest,  and 
often  they  have  been  connected  with  weird  su- 
perstitions and  occult  mysteries.    In  this  matter-of- 
fact  age  they  have  become  subjects  of  scientific 
investigation   involving   problems  of  the  first  im- 
portance both  in  archaeology  and  geology. 
It  is  probable  that  in  the  early  ages  of  the  human 
race  caves  were  used  as  places  of  dwelling  for  single 
families    or    for    larger    communities.     The  complete 


I04  SUBTERRANEAN   CAVES. 

protection  which  they  afforded  from  inclemencies  of 
weather,  the  uniform  temperature  they  gave,  and  the 
security  which  could  there  be  easily  obtained  from 
attacks  of  wild  beasts  or  human  foes,  admirably  adapted 
them  to  the  simple  habits  of  primitive  man ;  and  but 
for  the  superstition  which  regarded  these  dark  path- 
ways as  the  avenues  to  the  unseen  world,  which  they 
located  under  the  earth,  they  would  have  been  univer- 
sally used  as  dwelling-places.  Perhaps  it  was  this 
superstition  which  originated  the  habit  of  burying  their 
dead  in  caves,  so  common  in  the  early  ages  of  our  race. 
This  habit  has  led  to  confusion,  if  not  to  false  conclu- 
sions, in  regard  to  the  antiquity  of  the  human  race. 
Numerous  caverns,  in  which  are  found  the  bones  of 
extinct  species  of  animals,  occur  in  England  and  in 
continental  Europe,  and  a  few  have  been  found  in 
this  country. 

A  careful  examination  of  these  bone  caves  show 
that,  in  a  number  of  instances,  human  bones  are  found 
associated  with  the  bones  of  the  hyena,  the  cave  bear, 
the  great  Irish  elk,  and  other  animals  that  became 
extinct  at  the  close  of  the  tertiary  age.  This  has  been 
claimed  as  proof  that  man  was  contemporary  with  those 
animals,  and  of-  course  lived  before  the  glacial  epoch. 
If  the  remains  of  man  and  these  extinct  animals  had 
been  found  associated  together  in  undisturbed  tertiary 
strata,  the  proof  that  they  were  contemporary  would 
have  been  conclusive;  but  this  is  not  the  case  —  they 
are  never  associated  elsewhere.  This  fact,  together 
with  the  known  habit  of  man  in  the  early  ages,  of 
burying  his  dead  in  caves,  renders  the  archaeological 
argument  of  but  little  value. 

Caves  usually  occur  in  limestone  formations  where 
layers  of  clay  are  seldom  or  never  interposed  between 


I06  SUBTERRANEAN   CAVES. 

the  strata.  The  Trenton  and  Hudson  members  of  the 
lower  silurian  formation  so  largely  developed  in  cen- 
tral Kentucky,  extending  south  into  Tennessee  and 
with  a  northern  projection  forming  the  blue  limestone 
hills  between  the  two  Miamis  in  Ohio,  have  few  or  no 
caves  worthy  of  notice,  while  the  heavily  stratified  cor- 
niferous  limestone  of  southern  Indiana  abound  with 
caves,  though  no  very  extensive  ones  have  been  found. 
The  subcarbonous  limestone  furnishes  the  most  numer- 
ous and  the  most  extensive  caves  hitherto  explored. 

Sweden  furnishes  the  strange  phenomenon  of  large 
caves  occurring  in  granite  formations.  The  cave  of 
Noridstadt,  the  extent  of  which  has  not  yet  been  fully 
ascertained,  is  said  to  have  numerous  grand  and  beauti- 
ful chambers.  I  have  seen  no  attempt  to  explain  how 
these  were  formed  in  granite  rocks.  The  lava  forma- 
tions of  Iceland  and  Hawaii  furnish  several  extensive 
caves  formed  by  lava  running  over  beds  of  sand  which 
were  subsequently  washed  out,  leaving  the  roof  of 
hardened  lava  sufficiently  strong  to  support  itself. 

The  existence  of  caves  in  ^limestone  rocks  is  gen- 
erally referred  to  the  erosion  of  currents  of  water 
holding  carbonic  acid  in  solution.  The  well  known 
property  of  water,  charged  with  carbonic  acid,  to  dis- 
solve rocks  formed  of  carbonate  of  lime,  will  account, 
at  least,  for  the  initial  action  in  the  formation  of  caves, 
but  to  complete  the  work  in  the  larger  caves  will  re- 
quire the  agency  of  a  much  larger  flow  of  water  than 
is  found  in  them  at  present.  A  transverse  fracture  of 
the  strata  may  occur  from  earthquakes  or  other  disturb- 
ing causes.  The  rainwater,  charged  with  carbonic  acid 
in  its  descent  through  the  air,  fills  the  fissure  thus  made, 
till  the  hydraulic  pressure  forces  a  lateral  opening 
between  the  strata  through  which  the  water  escapes, 


SUBTERRANEAN  CAVES.  IO/ 

carrying  with  it  a  portion  of  the  rock  in  solution,  con- 
verting the  soft  rainwater  into  hard  limestone  water. 

Another  portion  of  the  rock  may  be  carried  out  by 
the  force  of  the  current  as  it  escapes  under  the  pressure 
of  the  incumbent  column  of  water.  But  after  the  chan- 
nel thus  formed  was  considerably  enlarged  it  would 
demand  a  flow  of  water  much  greater  than  that  fur- 
•  nished  by  any  rain  with  which  we  are  acquainted  to 
carry  forward  the  work  and  finish  the  great  chambers 
we  find  in  Wier's,  Mammoth  or  Wyandott  caves.  It 
is  possible,  however,  that  at  the  close  of  the  glacial 
age,  as  the  great  ice-field  disappeared,  that  mighty  tor- 
rents rushing  from  the  north  toward  the  gulf  of  Mex- 
ico filled  all  the  river  channels  to  overflowing.  The 
forming  caves  would  then  be  filled  with  water  super- 
charged with  carbonic  acid  —  for  the  ability  of  water 
to  hold  carbonic  acid  is  measured  by  its  low  temper- 
ature and  high  pressure.  Under  these  circumstances 
the  corrosive  property  of  the  glacial  water  would  have 
been  greatly  increased. 

I  am  convinced,  however,  that  other  agencies  besides 
the  flow  of  water  have  operated,  and  are  now  operating, 
to  extend  these  wonderful  subterranean  excavations. 
The  absence  of  light  and  other  solar  influences  facil- 
itate the  formation  of  nitric  acid  from  the  elements  of 
the  air.  Chemists  have  not  detected  the  secret  process 
by  which  nature  converts  the  oxygen  and  nitrogen  of 
the  air  into  the  radical  of  nitric  acid,  but  we  know  some 
of  the  essential  conditions  under  which  the  operation 
is  performed.  Exclusion  of  light,  absolute  quietude 
of  the  air,  and  a  uniform  temperature  and  a  degree  of 
moisture  are  conditions  favorable  to  the  formation  of 
nitric  acid,  and  these  are  most  perfectly  secured  in  all 
the  large  caves.  In  many  of  the  caverns  of  Kentucky 


108  SUBTERRANEAN  CAVES. 

and  Indiana  the  walls  of  large  chambers  are  covered 
with  needle-shaped  crystals  of  nitrate  of  lime,  which, 
constantly  accumulating,  become  at  length  too  heavy 
for  self-support,  and  becoming  disengaged  in  large 
masses,  accumulate  on  the  floor  of  the  cave,  frequently 
to  the  thickness  of  several  feet.  But  this  salt  being 
soluble  in  water  is  slowly  dissolved  and  carried  away 
by  the  moisture  of  the  accumulated  mass,  and  if  the 
walls  and  roof  of  the  cave  be  wet  the  lime  salt  does 
not  crystallize  but  is  dissolved  and  disappears  at  once. 

In  this  manner  the  walls  and  roof  of  the  several 
chambers  of  a  cave  are  corroded,  and  the  cave  slowly 
enlarging  and  the  span  of  the  roof  becoming,  at  length, 
too  great  to  support  itself,  falls  with  its  own  weight, 
and  leaves  a  funnel-shaped  depression  on  the  surface, 
known  in  common  language  as  a  "sink-hole."  In  the 
cavernous  regions  of  Kentucky  and  Indiana,  these 
sink-holes  are  frequently  so  numerous,  and  so  large 
and  deep  as  to  seriously  interfere  with  the  cultivation 
of  otherwise  excellent  soils. 

The  most  extensive  caves  which  have  been  hitherto 
explored  in  the  United  States  are  the  Mammoth  cave 
in  Edmonson  county,  Kentucky,  Wyandott  cave  in 
Crawford  county,  Indiana,  and  Big  Saltpeter  cave  in 
Marion  county,  Missouri.  The  first  of  these  (Mam- 
moth cave)  has  been  so  thoroughly  explored  and  so 
minutely  described  that  it  will  demand  only  a  passing 
notice  here.  It  is  by  far  the  largest  cave  now  known 
in  any  part  of  the  earth.  Its  length  from  the  entrance 
to  the  termination  of  its  longest  avenue  is  more  than 
ten  miles,  and  the  aggregate  length  of  all  the  avenues 
explored  is  between  thirty-five  and  forty  miles.  A  large 
stream  of  water,  supposed  to  be  a  subterranean  branch 
of  Green  river,  crosses  the  principal  avenue  and  adds 


SUBTERRANEAN  CAVES.  109 

much  to  the  interest  of  its  scenery.  Many  spacious 
rooms,  adorned  with  stalactites  and  glittering  with 
crystals  of  calcareous  spar,  attract  the  wondering  visitor, 
but  these  have  been  so  often  described  that  we  will  not 
repeat  the  story. 

Wyandott  cave,  next  to  its  Mammoth  sister,  is  the 
largest  cavern  yet  explored,  and  in  some  respects  it  is 
even  more  remarkable  than  the  Kentucky  cave.  Its 
location  is  in  Crawford  county,  Indiana,  five  miles  from 
Leavenworth,  on  the  Ohio  river.  The  entrance  is  on  a 
hillside  sloping  to  the  south-east,  and  at  an  elevation  of 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  low  water  in  the 
Ohio  river.  The  walls  of  the  cave  are  made  of  coarsely 
crystallized  limestone  belonging  to  the  sub-carboniferous 
formation,  but  the  summit  of  the  hill  is  capped  with 
conglomerate  sandstone,  in  heavy  strata.  As  this 
sandstone  is  not  acted  on  by  chemical  agents,  its  thick 
strata  forms  a  roof  for  large  chambers  which  otherwise 
would  be  filled  by  the  breaking  in  of  the  incumbent 
mass,  forming  surface  "  sink-holes "  so  common  in  this 
formation. 

The  main  avenue  of  Wyandott  cave  from  the 
entrance  to  its  termination  at  "  Crawfish  Spring"  is  a 
few  yards  more  than  seven  miles  by  actual  measure- 
ment. On  this  line  are  a  number  of  magnificent  cham- 
bers, but  of  these  we  can  give  attention  to  only  one. 
Grand  Dome  is,  perhaps,  the  largest  subterranean  room 
in  the  world.  Its  walls  are  nearly  a  true  circle,  with  a 
diameter  of  three  hundred  feet.  The  roof  is  a  regular 
dome,  rising  to  the  height  of  two  hundred  and  sixty 
feet  in  the  center.  This  dome  is  a  perfect  fret-work  of 
stalactites,  sometimes  suspended  singly,  and  sometimes 
joined  together  so  as  to  give  the  appearance  of  curtains. 
These  are  usually  of  the  clearest  white,  though  occa- 


I  10  THE  GREAT  PLAINS. 

sionally,  as  if  to  give  variety,  they  are  stained  —  with  iron 
oxide  —  a  pale  pink  color.  This  dome,  with  all  its  beau- 
ties, can  be  seen  from  below  only  by  a  calcium  light,  or 
by  the  fire  balls  of  a  Roman  candle  thrown  up  to  it. 

In  the  center  of  this  grand  chamber  is  a  rough  pyra- 
mid of  broken  stones  which  have  fallen  from  the  roof. 
It  rises  to  the  height  of  nearly  one  hundred  feet,  and  is 
crowned  by  three  stalagmites  which,  viewed  from  below, 
look  like  statues.  A  beautiful  spring  of  water  breaks 
out  in  this  room  and  directly  disappears  in  a  fissure  of 
the  rock.  Beside  this,  Crawfish  Spring,  at  the  end  of 
the  cave,  is  the  only  water  observed.  All  the  rooms  are 
dry. 


THE    GREAT    PLAINS. 

N  the  extreme  northwestern  section  of  our 
country,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Columbia  river, 
there  are  rich  fields  of  exploration  for  natural- 
ists or  geologists.  We  read  of  a  plain  hereabouts, 
three  miles  in  diameter,  strewed  with  pumice 
stones  and  other  volcanic  relics,  with  a  lake  in 
the  center  occupying,  no  doubt,  the  crater  of  the 
extinct  volcano.  Near  this  vicinity  are  deposits  of 
marine  shells,  conclusively  arguing  that  the  mountain 
crests  here  were  at  some  remote  period  beneath  an 
ocean  surf. 

All  this  region  presents  scenes  of  grand  and  sav- 
age character.  Rugged  and  romantic  ravines  and 
gorges  are  overhung  by  awful  and  threatening  cliffs, 


THE  GREAT  PLAINS.  I  I  I 

from  which  the  wild  mountain  animals  peer  down  upon 
the  infrequent  traveler.  Streams  of  water  running 
here  between  hills  of  bluish  earth  are  strongly  impreg- 
nated with  copperas.  Vast  flats  or  plains  stretch  away 
on  this  side  and  on  that,  which,  during  the  winter 
season,  are  swept  by  cutting,  cold  winds,  that  seem  to 
penetrate  to  the  marrow  of  the  bones. 

Along  the  streams  that  feed  the  Platte  are  hills 
covered  with  cedars,  with  low  country  intervening, 
where  the  buffaloes  find  fine  pasturage.  Sometimes 
the  traveler  comes  upon  platforms,  as  it  were,  among 
the  mountains,  from  whence  extensive  views  of  the 
surrounding  country  may  be  obtained ;  where  are  seen 
broken  cliff,  projecting  crag,  and  frightful  precipice  with 
streams  rushing  along  chasms,  foaming  over  beetling, 
rocky  promontories,  brawling  among  boulders  and 
natural  obstructions,  until,  with  gathering  force  and 
fury,  by  compression  in  some  deep  and  narrow  chan- 
nel-way, they  leap  with  foam  and  roar  adown  the 
mountain  abutments,  and  flatten  themselves  in  less 
turbulent  tides  upon  the  plains  beyond.  Again,  look- 
ing from  a  dizzy  high  bluff,  the  spectator  beholds  with 
awe  a  turbid  river  taking  its  irresistible  course  in  a 
succession  of  awful  leaps  from  crag  to  crag,  while  the 
stony  walls  echo  the  thunder  of  its  rushing  voice. 

The  rivers  in  this  section  are  sometimes  bordered 
with  alluvial  bottoms,  where  groves  of  cotton-wood 
and  willow  abound,  the  promontories  showing  growths  of 
pitch-pine.  Occasionally  the  ash  and  oak  grow  among 
the  cottonwood  and  willow .  but  other  sections  inter- 
vene, mostly  barren  of  trees  and  utterly  desolate  in 
appearance.  Persons  living  among  the  diversified 
scenery  of  the  east  can  hardly  picture  to  themselves 
the  monotonous  desolateness  of  the  unpeopled  plains 


112  THE  GREAT  PLAINS. 

of  the  west.  Like  a  broad  green  sea  its  grassy  billows, 
in  the  wind,  roll  wave  on  wave,  with  their  crests,  in  the 
summer  season,  tinged  with  the  golden,  purple  and 
red  blossoms  so  prodigally  sown  by  nature;  and  the 
inexperienced  eye,  sweeping  over  miles  in  area  of  these 
flats,  would  be  ready  to  affirm  that  no  human  creature 
lurked  within  scope  of  his  vision ;  but  at  twilight  and 
later  dusk,  their  pale  columns  of  smoke  winding 
spirally  upward,  and  revealed  against  the  far  horizon 
only  to  the  practiced  eye  of  the  hunter  and  scout, 
show  where,  in  some  basin  or  by  some  little  stream, 
the  wandering  or  warrior  red  man  has  camped  to 
roast  his  apron  of  buffalo  steak  to  refresh  his  "  inner- 
Injin;"  or,  perhaps,  some  straggling  party  of  scouts, 
and  hunters,  with  western  courage  or  bravado,  have 
kindled  a  fire,  around  which  they  smoke  and  joke  as 
carelessly  as  if  by  their  own  fireside,  instead  of  amid 
a  lurking  and  treacherous  race  of  aboriginals. 

If,  as  is  reasonably  argued  by  some  scientists,  the 
plains  of  the  west  were  once  the  floor  of  a  broad  un- 
known ocean,  and  the  scars  and  indentures  upon  many 
of  the  rocky  faces  of  the  mountains  seem  to  indisput- 
ably argue  the  fact,  what  a  wonderful  wealth  of  history 
of  lands,  and  seas,  and  people  has  dropped  from  the 
grasping,  searching  hand  of  to-day  ;  and  will  to-morrow, 
or  the  generations  to  come,  be  able  to  find  and  inter- 
pret the  hieroglyphics  with  which  nature  keeps  her 
records  in  secret  and  indestructible  tablets  ? 

While  the  majority  of  human  beings  are  apt  to 
join  in  the  everlasting  sad  refrain  "  Too  late,  too  late  ! " 
we  sometimes  cry  "Too  soon  —  we  were  born  too 
soon,"  longing  as  we  do,  thirsting  as  we  are,  for  revela- 
tions of  the  Almighty  Maker  in  His  perfect  works; 
but  trusting  to  retain  life  and  individuality  in  some 


THE   MOUND  BUILDERS. 


better  clime,  we  will  cry  through  the  abyss  of  space  — 
"  God  speed  mortality  in  knowledge  and  appreciation 
of  its  Maker." 


THE  MOUND   BUILDERS. 

'HE  question,  "Who  were  the  Mound  Builders?" 
has  never  yet  been  satisfactorily  answered,  al- 
though for  the  past  half-  century  the  subject  has 
been  speculated  upon,  and  scientists  have  exhausted 
themselves  in  their  researches  for  a  solution. 
All  we  know  of  the  wonderful  people  is  what  may  be 
seen  of  their  works.  No  one  knows  when  they  first 
appeared  upon  this  continent,  their  origin,  how  long 
they  remained,  how  or  when  they  left.  That  the  Mound 
Builders  were  here  for  a  great  length  of  time  is  evident 
from  the  immensity  of  their  works ;  that  they  became 
extinct  ages  ago  is  also  evident,  as  the  American 
Indians  have  not  the  slightest  traditions  of  them,  while 
they  hold  traditions  as  far  back  even  as  Noah's  flood. 

John  D.  Baldwin,  A.M.,  believes  they  were  the  true 
American  aborigines,  and  not  emigrants  from  another 
country,  while  George  Catlin  attempts  to  prove  to  the 
contrary.  Mr.  Baldwin  argues  that  the  people  of 
Mexico  and  Central  America  were  of  the  same  race  as 
those  of  the  Mississippi  valley,  from  the  fact  that  the 
works  of  the  Mound  Builders  extended  through  Texas 
and  across  the  Rio  Grande,  connecting  with  the  works 
of  Mexico.  As  a  further  evidence,  he  goes  on  with  an 
attempt  to  prove  that  the  ruins  in  North  and  Central 


THE  MOUND  BUILDERS.  \  15 

America  are  very  similar ;  a  point  far  fetched,  for  the 
former  are  entirely  of  earth,  while  the  latter  are,  as  a 
whole  or  in  part,  solid  masonry.  So  far,  we  believe,  as 
investigations  have  been  made,  no  part  of  the  wonderful 
mounds  of  the  Mississippi  valley  have  shown  the  use  of 
hewn  stone  and  mortar,  while  the  ruins  of  the  south 
nearly  all  exhibit  heavy  and  high  artistic  walls  of  stone. 
Where  elevations  of  earth  were  made  they  were 
adorned,  at  the  summit,  with  temples  of  masonry  work. 

The  identity  of  the  races  certainly  cannot  be  made 
clear  with  such  a  wide  discrepancy  in  the  display  of 
skill  and  intellectual  ability.  While  the  Mound  Builders 
had  a  degree  of  civilization  that  elevated  them  far  above 
the  savages  who  followed,  they  were  a  long  way  from 
reaching  that  point  of  genius  possessed  everywhere 
among  the  prehistoric  inhabitants  of  Central  America. 
Had  they  been  of  the  same  people,  there  would  exist 
striking  similarity  in  their  mechanical  execution,  even  if 
there  had  existed  a  great  disparity  in  point  of  general 
intelligence.  The  greatest  similarity  exists  in  the 
geometrical  precision  of  the  works  ;  but  this  same  argu- 
ment might  as  well  be  used  to  prove  that  the  Mound 
Builders  and  Chinese  were  the  same. 

The  ruins  of  Central  America  stand  as  evidences  of 
finished  art  in  masonry  and  sculpture  work  as  well ;  the 
old  walls,  built  up  strong  and  enduring  as  time,  are 
many  of  them  elaborately  chiseled,  showing  designs 
and  figures  in  relief  equal  to  the  best  work  of  the 
present  day.  Among  the  works  of  the  Mound  Builders 
are  found  simply  symmetrical  mounds  and  circles, 
pottery  with  tasty  molding,  rude  implements  of  beaten 
copper  from  Lake  Superior  mines,  and  a  few  im- 
perishable articles  of  less  consequence.  What  these 
people  did  in  wood  can  never  be  known,  for  the  period 


Il6  THE  MOUND   BUILDERS. 

is  so  remote  in  which  they  lived,  that  scarcely  any  trace 
of  wood  can  be  found,  even  in  the  mounds  where 
doubtless  more  or  less  was  used. 

George  Catlin  is  of  the  opinion  that  the  Mound 
Builders  were  descendants  from  the  Welsh,  who  had 
been  thrown,  at  an  early  period,  upon  the  American 
coast,  and  that  the  Mandan  Indians  are  the  remnants  of 
this  once  powerful  race  of  people.  Their  complexion, 
color  of  hair  and  eyes,  and  singular  modes  of  building 
and  furnishing  wigwams,  leads  him  to  believe  that  they 
are  an  amalgam  of  some  foreign  with  an  American 
aboriginal  stock.  He  thinks  that  the  ten  ships  under 
the  direction  of  Prince  Madock,  from  North  Wales, 
early  in  the  fourteenth  century,  landed  on  the  coast  of 
Florida  or  about  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  Mandan  wigwams  and  the  cabins  of  the  Welsh 
peasantry  are  the  same.  The  pottery  made  by  the  two 
peoples  are  the  same  and  strikingly  similar  to  that  found 
in  the  mounds. 

The  Mandans  are  the  only  Indians  who  manufacture 
beautiful  sorted  blue  beads,  and  the  same  are  found  in 
Wales.  The  canoes,  or  boats,  of  the  Mandans  differ 
from  those  of  all  other  American  tribes,  and  are  pre- 
cisely the  same  as  the  Welsh  "  coracle,"  made  of  bull's 
hide  stretched  over  a  frame  of  willow  rods  bent  and 
interlocked,  and  they  are  moved  over  the  water  by  the 
paddle  —  in  the  same  manner  as  the  coracle  is  pulled  — 
by  reaching  forward  with  the  paddle  instead  of  at  the 
side.  The  name,  Mandan,  is  not  an  Indian  word  but 
Welsh,  and  means  red  dye.  Very  many  words  in  the 
two  languages  are  similar. 

His  theory  is  that  the  Welsh  came  up  the  Missis- 
sippi to  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio,  and  advanced  up  that 
river  as  far  as  vessels  could  go,  then  landed  and  planted 


THE   MOUND  BUILDERS.  U^ 

themselves  as  agriculturists  on  the  fertile  banks,  where 
they  lived,  flourished  and  increased  until  they  became 
extended  and  powerful ;  at  last  they  were  besieged  by 
hordes  of  savages,  and  for  protection  built  themselves 
civilized  fortifications,  the  remains  of  which  are  so 
numerous  in  southern  Ohio. 

He  believes  that  all  were  destroyed  but  a  few  who 
had  intermarried  with  the  Indians,  and  their  offsprings, 
who  were  half-castes,  were  spared.  He  thinks  that  the 
half-castes  separated  themselves  both  from  the  Indians 
and  the  Welsh,  and  had  a  village  of  their  own,  and, 
from  the  beautiful  red  dyes  they  manufactured,  were 
called,  by  the  Welsh,  Mandans  or  red  dyes,  a  name 
which  the  half-castes  adopted  ;  and  after  the  destruction 
of  the  Mound  Builders,  removed  themselves  to  north- 
ern Missouri.  He  gives,  as  an  evidence  of  their  once 
living  south,  their  knowledge  of  the  pheasant,  never 
found  in  the  upper  regions  of  the  Missouri. 

Mr.  Catlin's  theory,  as  to  the  Mandans  being  de- 
scendants of  the  Welsh,  is  not  unreasonable,  but  that 
the  Mandans  are  remnants  of  the  Mound  Builders  is 
not  at  all  probable.  Were  they  the  same,  or  half-castes, 
there  would  be  more  distinct  traces  in  traits  of  charac- 
ter than  ever  existed.  Had  the  Mound  Builders  been 
directly  from  Wales,  they  would  have  followed  the  cus- 
toms of  their  own  people,  and  would  not  have  become 
so  entirely  different  as  to  have  scarcely  a  similar  cor- 
responding trait. 

Moreover,  were  the  Mandans  descendants  of  the 
mound-building  people,  they  would  retain  some  char- 
acteristics of  their  tribe  —  building  mounds  and  work- 
ing in  metals — and  still  more  reasonably  would  they 
have  carried  a  distinct  direct  tradition  back  to  the  now 
great  unknown  people. 


jjg  THE   OLD  AMERICA. 

The  Mound  Builders  occupied  quite  an  extended 
portion  of  the  basin  of  the  Mississippi  river  and  its 
tributaries ;  but  their  greatest  works  are  found  in 
southern  Ohio,  where,  doubtless,  the  earth  workers 
were  most  numerous  and  prosperous. 

The  traces  of  their  existence  are  so  peculiar  to  one 
tribe  of  people  that  they  cannot  consistently  be  linked 
with  any  other ;  but,  where  they  came  from,  how  long 
they  remained,  and  in  what  manner  they  became 
extinct,  will  ever  be  unanswered. 

The  entire  lack  of  any  tradition  leads  us  to  believe 
that  they  were  destroyed  by  some  phenomenon  in 
nature,  or  perhaps  pestilence,  and  not  a  soul  was  left 
to  tell  of  his  people  to  the  red  man  who  came,  it  may 
be,  centuries  after. 


THE    OLD    AMERICA. 

:N  that  eventful  morning  when  the  darkness  was 
dissipated  which  had  enveloped  the  human  mind 
for  ages  concerning  the  form  of  the  earth,  and 
a  new  world  reared  its  shores  from  the  bosom  of 
the  sea  before  the  eyes  of  the  astonished  Span- 
iards, little  did  the  discoverers  think  that  they  were 
"gazing  on  a  world  which  could  compete  successfully 
for  the  palm  of  antiquity  with  the  one  from  which  they 
had  sailed.  Few  Americans  to-day  realize  that  on  this 
continent  we  have  ruined  cities  as  majestic  as  Baalbec, 
as  beautiful  as  Palmyra,  and  as  mysterious  as  those 
which  lie  half  buried  in  the  sands  of  the  Nile  valley. 
Yet  such  is  the  fact. 


THE   OLD  AMERICA.  j  jg 

Palenque,  in  Chiapas,  southern  Mexico,  probably 
one  of  the  most  ancient  cities  in  the  world,  presents 
to  the  explorer  many  architectural  features  which  are 
of  quite  recent  application  in  modern  building.  The 
Temple  of  the  Cross,  at  Palenque,  is  surmounted  by 
a  roof  of  stone,  corresponding  to  the  most  perfect 
mansard  or  French  pattern.  M.  Waldeck,  the  veteran 
French  artist,  visited  those  ruins  in  1832-3,  and  spent 
two  years  in  their  exploration  ;  after  which  he  returned 
to  Paris  with  his  fine  collection  of  drawings,  which  he 
exhibited  frequently.  These  drawings,  in  all  probability, 
suggested  to  the  French  architects-  the  roof  which  is 
so  generally  admired  to-day.  M.  Waldeck's  drawings 
were  published  by  the  French  government  in  1866  in 
a  folio  work  entitled  "  Palenque,"  in  which  M.  Viollet- 
Leduc,  the  architect  of  the  Tuilleries,  discusses  with 
no  lack  of  appreciation  the  architectural  features  of 
ancient  American  cities.  The  sculpture  of  Palenque 
and  Uxmal  has,  in  some  instances,  approached  the 
Greek  models  in  beauty.  The  "  House  of  the  Nuns," 
at  Uxmal,  has  a  fagade  ornamented  with  statues  of 
men  "  cut  in  the  round  "  and  not  simply  in  relief,  which 
for  beauty  cannot  be  surpassed  in  the  Old  World.  At 
Palenque,  in  one  of  the  temples,  a  stucco  relief,  a  few 
years  ago  (but  since  fallen),  impressed  its  describers 
so  sensibly  with  its  rare  beauty  that  they  applied  to 
it  the  name  of  the  Beau-relief.  M.  Waldeck,  with  the 
critical  insight  of  an  experienced  artist,  declares  it 
"worthy  to  be  compared  to  the  most  beautiful  works 
of  the  age  of  Augustus."  This  stucco  represents  a 
royal  youth,  helmeted  with  a  helmet  of  the  Roman 
pattern,  surmounted  by  a  crest  of  plumes.  His  wrists 
are  encased  in  gauntlets.  One  hand  points  upward, 
while  the  other  is  extended  in  a  horizontal  position.  A 


I20  THE   OLD  AMERICA. 

beautiful  medallion,  bearing  a  feminine  face,  is  sus- 
pended from  his  neck  by  a  string  of  pearls.  A  short 
embroidered  skirt  falls  to  his  knees.  The  feet  are 
shod  with  sandals,  secured  by  rosettes  at  the  ankles. 
This  youth  is  seated  on  a  high  embroidered  cushion, 
resting  on  a  throne-like  chair,  ornamented  with  leopard 
heads  on  each  side.  The  animal's  feet  are  also 
sandaled.  The  grace  displayed  by  the  youth's  arms 
and  limbs,  and  the  beauty  of  his  features,  lead  us  to 
pronounce  him  the  American  Apollo. 

Leaving  these  forest  grown  temples  of  the  south, 
from  the  roofs  of  which  stately  trees  rear  their  trunks, 
we  find  nearer  home  the  traces  of  civilization,  which, 
if  not  so  advanced,  is  equally  interesting  to  us.  In  the 
summers  of  1874-5  Messrs.  Holmes  and  Jackson,  of 
the  United  States  Geological  Survey  corps,  discov- 
ered in  the  valley  of  the  San  Juan  river,  in  Colorado, 
Arizona  and  New  Mexico,  the  ruined  homes  of  a 
vanquished  people.  Their  houses  were  built  in  little 
caves  and  upon  ledges  of  rock  in  the  perpendicular 
face  of  the  canon,  in  some  instances  at  a  height  of 
800  to  1,000  feet  from  the  bottom  of  the  canon.  In 
many  cases  these  cliff  dwellings  were  only  accessible 
by  means  of  niche  stairways  cut  in  the  face  of  the 
rock,  in  which  the  fingers  and  toes  could  be  inserted. 
The  houses  were  found  to  be  built  of  hewn  stone, 
sometimes  two  stories  high,  and  often  to  contain 
several  little  rooms.  Stone  balustrades  frequently 
protected  the  inhabitants  of  these  aerial  homes  from  the 
dangers  of  being  precipitated  into  the  canon  below. 
Tradition  tells  us  that  a  thousand  years  ago  these  clifF- 
.  dwellers  cultivated  the  valleys  of  the'  neighboring 
country  in  peace;  but  one  springtime  a  warlike  people 
from  the  north  came  down  upon  them  and  sorely 


FALLS   OF   THE    YELLOWSTONE.  I2i 

threatened  them  with  extermination.  In  order  to  save 
their  wives  and  little  ones,  they  built  these  nest-like 
dwellings  in  the  cliffs.  Finally,  when  they  could  hold 
out  no  longer,  the  men  went  forth  to  meet  the  enemy 
in  one  final  battle,  in  which,  at  terrible  sacrifice  of  life, 
they  held  the  foe  at  bay  long  enough  for  their  families 
to  escape  to  southern  Arizona,  where  their  descend- 
ants, the  Moquis,  reside  at  present. 


FALLS  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE. 


N  the  next  page  we  give  a  very  fine  view  of  the 
Upper  Falls  of  the  Yellowstone,  which  is  one  of 
the  grandest  spots  on  the  continent.  Indeed  it 
is  here  that  the  most  remarkable  canons  of  the  world 
are  found.  Through  this  wonderful  gorge  the  river 
boils  and  tumbles,  falling  some  three  thousand 
feet  in  fifty  miles.  The  vertical  sides  of  the  chasm 
rise  dark  and  gray,  from  which  one  can  look  down  into 
the  foaming,  spray-filled  depths,  enlivened  with  rainbows 
and  glittering  like  a  shower  of  dewdrops  and  diamonds 
intermingled. 

Dr.  Hayden  says  no  language  can  do  justice  to  its 
grandeur  and  beauty;  through  the  eye  alone  can  any 
just  idea  be  gained  of  its  strange,  awful,  fascinating, 
unearthly  blending  of  the  majestic  and  the  beautiful. 
Mr.  Langford  says  the  brain  reels  as  one  gazes  into  this 
profound  and  solemn  depth,  and  we  shrink  from  the 


UPPER  FALLS  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE. 


ANTEDILUVIAN  RELICS.  I2? 

dizzy  verge  appalled.  Down,  down,  down,  we  see  the 
river  attenuated  to  a  thread,  tossing  its  miniature  waves 
and  dashing  with  puny  strength  against  the  massive 
walls  which  imprison  it. 

After  the  waters  roll  over  the  upper  falls,  says  Dr. 
Hayden,  they  spread  and  flow  with  great  rapidity  over 
an  apparently  flat,  rocky  bottom,  and  at  the  lower  falls 
contract  again  into  a  compact  mass  and  plunge  over  a 
descent  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  detached 
drops  of  foam  as  white  as  snow.  Some  of  the  large 
globules  of  water  shoot  down  like  the  contents  of  an 
exploded  rocket. 


ANTEDILUVIAN    RELICS. 

|HE  moldering  mummies  found  in  the  dark 
recesses  of  crumbling  tombs  and  ruins  of  the 
once  magnificent  temples  of  Thebes  and  Baby- 
lon, speak  in  a  silent  though  convincing  language 
of  a  people  that  wrought  those  splendid  works  and 
carried  on  the  marts  of  trade  and  commerce;  filling  the 
avenues  and  thoroughfares  of  those  great  empires  with 
a  busy  throng  of  life  and  activity.  Not  less  certain  do 
the  fossils  and  petrified  organic  remains  attest  of  the 
giant  animals  and  different  orders  of  animated  life  that 
inhabited  our  planet  during  the  ages  that  preceded  this. 
The  wonders  of  palaeontology  open  up  a  grand 
field  of  study  through  which  we  can  look  back  into 
the  far  antediluvian  world,  and  view  the  skeletons  and 


124 


ANTEDILUVIAN  RELICS. 


forms  of  the  surprising  inhabitants  of  earth  thousands, 
perhaps  millions,  of  years  ago.  A  brief  description  of 
a  few  of  the  more  wonderful  fossils  and  relics  of  ancient 
life  may,  perhaps,  not  be  wholly  uninteresting  to  the 
reader. 

Prominent  on  the  list  is  the  remains  of  the  gigantic 
megatherium  of  South  America,  found  in  the  level 
plains  adjoining  the  Parana  and  its  tributaries.  The 
bones  are  sometimes  found  scattered  through  the  rich 
alluvial  soil,  but  more  frequently  they  are  imbedded  in 
the  mud  at  the  bottoms  of  rivers.  At  the  close  of  an 
unusually  dry  season  they  are  sometimes  seen  standing 
above  the  surface  of  the  water  like  snags,  or  short 
broken  trunks  of  trees  seen  in  our  western  waters. 
Some  forty  or  fifty  years  ago  the  inhabitants  of  one 
of  the  low  alluvial  districts  south  of  the  city  of  Buenos 
Ayres  discovered  the  haunch,  or  pelvic  bones,  of  one 
of  the  antediluvian  monsters  in  the  river  Salado.  It 
was  entire,  and  had  probably  been  washed  bare  at  the 
time  of  high  water.  Its  upper  surface  appeared  con- 
siderably above  the  water.  A  lasso  was  thrown  over 
it,  and  after  considerable  difficulty  it  was  drawn  from 
its  bed  and  hauled  on  shore.  This  great  bone  meas- 
ured five  to  six  feet  across,  and  two  large  men  could 
pass  through  its  circle  at  the  same  time  with  ease.  It 
was  conveyed  to  Buenos  Ayres,  where  Sir  Woodbine 
Parish  obtained  it,  and  immediately  dispatched  men  to 
hunt  for  the  remaining  parts.  After  some  time  spent 
in  sounding,  dragging  and  damming  off  the  water,  they 
succeeded  in  securing  the  skull,  the  spinal  vertebrae  and 
tail,  the  shoulder-bone  and  hinder  extremity.  The  thigh 
bone  was  nearly  three  feet  in  circumference,  or  the  size 
of  a  small  saw-log.  The  enormous  claw-armed  toes 
were  over  two  feet  in  length  ;  the  upper  part  of  the  tail 


ANTEDILUVIAN  RELICS.  I2^ 

was  two  feet  wide,  and  the  cavity  for  the  spinal  marrow 
was  a  foot  in  diameter.  This  specimen  was  consider- 
ably larger  than  that  previously  found  by  Cuvier,  though 
not  in  as  good  state  of  preservation.  The  fossil  skel- 
eton found  by  Cuvier  was  found  a  hundred  feet  beloxv 
the  surface,  in  a  sand-bank,  near  the  La  Plata  river, 
and  was  nearly  perfect.  It  measured  twelve  feet  in 
length  and  six  feet  in  height.  On  account  of  its  vast 
size  the  great  French  naturalist  gave  it  the  name  of 
megatherium,  from  two  Greek  words,  signifying  the 
great  monster.  It  was  probably  a  species  of  sloth,  or 
armadillo;  and  from  the  structure  of  its  jaws,  teeth, 
etc.,  we  infer  that  it  subsisted  on  roots,  leaves  and 
branches  of  trees.  A  skeleton  of  this  gigantic  ante- 
diluvian animal  may  now  be  seen  in  the  museum  of 
natural  history  at  Madrid,  in  Spain. 

An  immense  skull,  four  feet  in  length  and  three  feet 
in  breadth,  with  huge  tusks  curving  downward,  was 
unearlhed  at  Epplesheim,  in  Hesse  Darmstadt,  in 
1830.  Only  fragments,  however,  of  the  skeleton  of 
this  enormous  creature  have  as  yet  been  found;  and 
much  of  its  shape  and  form  is  at  present  only  conjec- 
ture. It  was  named  the  dinotherium,  and  was  sup- 
posed to  have  been  from  fifteen  to  eighteen  feet  in 
length.  Dr.  Buckland  supposed  it  to  be  an  aquatic 
animal,  which,  taking  everything  into  consideration,  is 
probably  correct.  Quite  likely  it  was  somewhat  like 
the  walrus  of  our  northern  seas,  and  frequented  the 
great  lakes  or  inland  seas  of  the  former  age  of  the 
world.  The  shape  of  its  teeth  show  that  it  was  herbiv- 
orous. 

Among  the  more  noted  antediluvian  relics  are  the 
remains  of  the  gigantic  mastodon,  several  of  which 
have  been  found  in  the  United  States,  particularly  in 


I26  ANTEDILUVIAN  RELICS. 

Orange  county,  New  York,  and  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Big-bone  Lick,  in  the  northern  part  of  Kentucky.  A 
few  years  since  the  fossil  skeleton  of  one  of  these 
ancient  monsters  was  exhibited  in  London,  under  the 
name  of  the  Missouri  Leviathan.  The  living  animal 
must  have  been  considerably  larger  than  the  elephant 
now  existing.  It  is  now  in  the  British  Museum.  In 
1845  an  entire  skeleton  of  the  mastodon  was  disin- 
terred in  a  marsh,  or  swamp,  in  Coldenham,  Orange 
county,  New  York.  It  had  evidently  mired  or  sunk 
in  the  mud  while  attempting  to  cross,  and  was  the 
most  perfect  skeleton  hitherto  discovered.  Within 
the  skeleton  were  the  contents  of  the  stomach,  consist- 
ing of  coarse  herbage,  crushed  twigs,  etc.  The  length 
of  this  stupendous  fossil  elephant  is  stated  at  thirty- 
three  feet.  The  length  of  the  skull  was  three  feet 
ten  inches,  and  of  the  tusks  ten  feet.  The  skull  and 
tusks  together  weighed  692  pounds,  and  the  weight  of 
the  entire  skeleton  was  2,002  pounds.  The  whole  was 
cleaned  and  wired  in  a  natural  and  scientific  manner, 
and  eventually  was  taken  to  the  museum  of  the  Har- 
vard University,  near  Boston,  Massachusetts.  Another 
specimen  was  dug  up  in  the  township  of  Montgomery, 
of  the  same  county,  and  set  up  in  Peale's  Museum,  in 
Philadelphia.  In  the  early  part  of  1872,  a  gentleman 
by  the  name  of  Mitchell,  living  about  a  mile  from 
Otisville,  in  the  above-mentioned  county,  hired  a 
laborer  to  dig  muck  from  a  swamp  to  place  on  the 
uplands  of  his  farm.  The  man  had  excavated  to  the 
depth  of  four  feet  when  he  came  upon  an  enormous 
bone,  shaped  like  a  rib.  He  stopped  work  and  in- 
formed Mr.  Mitchell  of  his  discovery,  who.  thinking  it 
must  have  belonged  to  some  monstrous  animal,  di- 
rected that  deeper  and  more  extended  digging  be  done. 


ANTEDILUVIAN  RELICS.  I2y 

At  a  depth  of  fifteen  feet  the  pelvis,  head  and  other 
large  bones  were  found.  Search  was  continued,  and 
eventually  almost  the  entire  skeleton  was  exhumed. 
The  main  portion  of  the  skull  and  upper  jaw  weighed 
nearly  500  pounds  and  measured  over  three  and  a  half 
feet  across  the  top.  One  of  the  leg  bones  alone  weighed, 
when  taken  out,  over  350  pounds.  The  openings  where 
the  tusks  had  formerly  been  inserted  were  three  feet 
and  eight  inches  deep.  The  enormous  pelvis  was 
taken  out  whole,  and  the  forty  pieces  of  the  vertebrae, 
or  backbone,  were  found  lying  near  together.  The 
channel  where  the  spinal  cord  lay  when  the  monster 
was  alive  was  five  inches  in  circumference.  The  back 
teeth  extended  seven  inches  along  the  jawbone,  and 
were  four  inches  across.  The  whole  skeleton  was  said 
to  be  fourteen  feet  in  height,  and  twenty-five  feet  in 
length.  The  contents  of  the  stomach  was  found, 
among  which  was  a  strange  grass,  with  blades  or  leaves 
of  great  length,  and  from  one  to  three  inches  in  width. 
There  was  also  a  number  of  large  leaves  of  a  singular 
form,  and  an  undigested  mass  of  coarse  stalks  and 
twigs.  Some  have  supposed  that  the  mastodon  lived 
during  an  early  age  of  the  earth's  present  period  of 
existence,  but  the  page  of  history  furnishes  no  record 
of  this  monster  having  been  seen  alive.  Its  remains 
being  found  in  swamps  or  marshes,  as  though  the 
animal  while  living  had  sunk  or  mired  therein,  would 
seem  to  show  that  that  spot  at  least  must  have  retained 
its  own  peculiar  structure  and  composition  amid  the 
crash  of  upheaving  elements,  or  else  they  do  belong 
to  the  present  period.  Some  have  thought  that  they 
existed  previous  to  the  flood,  and  others  that  they 
formed  the  connecting  link  between  the  old  creation 
and  the  new. 


!  2 8  ANTEDIL U  VI AN  RELICS. 

The  megalosaurus  was  an  immense  lizard-like 
reptile,  the  remains  of  which  have  been  found  in  the 
oolitic  slate  formation.  No  perfect  skeleton  has  as  yet 
been  found,  but  from  what  has  been  discovered  we  can 
form,  by  comparative  anatomy,  a  tolerably  correct  opin- 
ion of  the  shape,  form  and  habits  of  this  formidable 
reptile,  which  is  thought  to  have  been  from  forty  to 
seventy  feet  in  length. 

The  Iguanodon  was  a  truly  gigantic  and  fearful  rep- 
tile that  once  inhabited  the  wealden  formation  of  the 
southern  part  of  England.  Dr.  Mantell,  the  celebrated 
geologist,  who  has  given  the  world  much  valuable 
knowledge  concerning  the  "  Medals  of  Creation,"  was 
the  first  to  discover  the  remains  of  this  former'inhabitant 
of  earth.  It  is  thought  to  have  been  in  shape  and  form 
analogous  to  the  Iguana,  though  it  was  of  far  vaster 
proportions.  Comparative  anatomy  shows  that  the 
largest  specimens  may  have  been  seventy  feet  in  length, 
of  which  the  tail  was  over  fifty,  and  the  circumference 
of  the  body  was  at  least  fourteen  feet.  Its  teeth  pro- 
claimed it  to  have  been  herbivorous.  A  short,  though 
strong  horn,  arose  in  a  slightly  curving  direction  from 
the  snout,  and  altogether  this  monster  reptile  must  have 
presented  a  fierce  and  horrid  aspect.  The  remains  dis- 
covered by  Dr.  Mantell  are  now  in  the  British  Museum. 

Surely  the  world  was  not  always  as  it  is.  The 
myriads  of  fossil  shells,  and  remains  of  gigantic  lizards 
and  sea  monsters  that  are  found  in  the  soil  and  rocks 
all  over  the  landed  portion  of  the  earth,  proclaim  the 
undisputable  fact  that  oceans  and  seas  once  covered  the 
present  land  —  that  the  briny  waves  once  rolled  in 
majesty,  perhaps  hundreds  of  feet  above  the  broad 
savannas  and  rolling  prairies  of  the  present  age.  Im- 
agination wanders  far  back  through  the  dim  and  distant 


CRATER   OF  KILAUEA. 


I29 


ages,  when  the  huge  elephantine  mammoth  roamed  un- 
molested over  the  then  sunny  plains  of  Siberia,  and  the 
fertile  tops  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  formed  tropical 
islands  in  the  vast  deep ;  and  picture  scenes  amid 
mountain,  lake  and  lagoon,  where  unsightly  reptiles, 
seventy  feet  in  length,  wriggled,  fought  and  sported  in 
the  water,  while  huge  vampires,  with  wings  twenty-five 
feet  across,  sailed  in  the  air  overhead  ;  and  the  masto- 
don, or  megatherium,  crashed  through  the  giant  canes 
and  brushwood  with  jarring  footsteps  and  appalling 
roar,  and  we  almost  tremble  at  the  contemplation. 


CRATER  OF  KILAUEA. 

CORRESPONDENT  writing  from  Hilo,  Ha- 
waii, Hawaiian  Islands,  gives  a  vivid  description 
of  the  great  volcano  Kilauea,  from  which  we 
make  a  brief  extract :  "  It  is  apparently  on  level 
ground,  the  mountain  rising  up  gradually  behind 
it,  and  does  not  look  like  the  volcanoes  we  see  in 
pictures,  on  the  tops  of  mountains,  shooting  up  cinders 
and  smoke,  but  is  an  immense  pit,  nearly  circular,  and 
over  three  miles  in  diameter,  or  three  times  the  size  of 
Vesuvius.  The  walls  around  it  are  all  very  steep,  and 
vary  from  four  to  eleven  hundred  feet  in  height. 

"  We  spent  the  morning  at  an  immense  bank  of 
sulphur,  where  are  obtained  some  fine  specimens  of  any 
amount  of  sulphur.  The  bank  was  about  twenty  feet 
high,  and  perpendicular  on  one  side,  and  was  composed 
almost  entirely  of  pure  sulphur,  crusted  on  top,  but  hot 
9 


1 3o 


CRATER   OF  KILAUEA. 


underneath,  with  a  great  many  little  blow-holes  for  the 
steam  to  issue  from.  On  the  perpendicular  side  were 
cracks,  all  emitting  sulphurous  vapor,  intensely  hot, 
while  beautiful  crystals  were  forming  on  the  edges  and 
face  of  the  rock,  dropping  to  pieces  on  being  touched. 

"  After  dinner  we  started  to  descend  into  the  crater. 
Climbing  down  the  bluff  at  a  place  near  the  house,  we 
followed  along  the  side  for  nearly  half  a  mile,  then 
making  another  descent  down  a  sand-bank,  came  to  the 
lava  which  was  piled  up  in  immense  masses  around  the 
edge  of  the  crater  proper.  All  around  the  edge  of  the 
crater  steam  was  issuing  from  the  cracks  in  the  lava, 
showing  there  was  heat  somewhere.  After  walking  for 
half  an  hour  over  this  sea  of  lava,  and  getting  near  the 
center  of  the  crater,  we  felt  a  breath  of  hot  air  from  our 
right  side,  and  the  guide  going  a  little  way  in  that  direc- 
tion, stuck  his  pole  in  some  smobth  looking  lava  and 
brought  out  some  molten  fire  on  the  end  of  it,  and  we 
saw  then  it  was  a  regular  flow,  the  same  that  on  a  larger 
scale  has  covered  miles  of  territory  and  buried  cities. 
Being  on  nearly  level  lava  its  progress  was  so  slow  that 
it  cooled  on  the  outside  as  it  went,  forming  a  dark  skin 
that  kept  it  all  the  hotter  inside,  and  its  appearance 
was  like  a  great  worm  sending  out  feelers  here  and 
there,  filling  up  holes  and  cracks,  and  making  mounds 
where  its  way  was  impeded. 

"  We  kept  carefully  on  the  windward  side,  finding  it 
intensely  hot  there,  and  sticking  in  our  poles  brought 
out  the  red  hot  lava,  sticking  coins  in  it  as  it  cooled 
for  souvenirs  of  the  trip.  It  cooled  rapidly,  but  before 
we  were  ready  to  leave  we  found  our  feet  were  getting 
very  hot,  and  looking  in  a  crack  of  the  lava  on  which 
we  were  standing,  we  saw  it  red  hot  but  three  inches 
down,  evidently  but  a  few  days  old.  We  left  and  kept 


CRATER   OF  KILAUEA.  j^j 

on  our  way  toward  the  lake  at  the  other  end.  Ahead 
of  us  was  a  big  hill  of  lava,  back  of  which  were  the 
lakes.  We  started  up  the  hill,  feeling  our  way  carefully 
for  fear  of  "  blisters,"  and  had  got  part  way  up  when 
the  guide  showed  us,  through  an  opening  in  the  side  of 
a  little  mound  we  had  just  passed  over,  a  river  of  molten 
lava  rushing  down  the  hill  at  a  very  rapid  rate  in  a  channel 
it  melted  out,  forming  a  stream  about  six  feet  wide, 
spluttering  and  hissing  like  liquid  iron  when  the  crucible 
is  tapped. 

"It  was  a  terrible  sight,  and  before  we  had  got  over 
the  effect  of  the  first  view,  the  cake  of  lava  we  were  all 
standing  together  on  began  to  '  slump '  with  us,  as  they 
say,  cave  in,  and  as  visions  of  rivers  of  fire  shot  through 
our  bewildered  minds  we  made  tracks  in  all  directions, 
and  each  kept  on  his  own  piece  after  that.  One  said 
he  had  seen  enough  and  wanted  to  go  back,  but  finally 
decided  to  keep  on,  sending  the  guide  ahead,  who,  find- 
ing it  too  '  slumpy,'  came  back,  and  we  started  up  the 
hill  in  another  place,  reaching  the  top  in  safety. 

"  We  were  still  five  hundred  feet  from  the  lake,  and 
found  our  progress  barred  by  a  fresh  flow,  so  we  had 
to  stop,  the  only  path  being  cut  off  where  the  guide 
had  gone  the  day  before.  The  lava  had  sunk  down 
several  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  lake,  and  we  could 
only  see  through  the  heated  air  that  rose  over  it  jets 
of  lava  thrown  up  from  the  boiling  mass,  and  hear  the 
sound  like  surf  on  the  beach,  as  it  surged  back  and 
forth  against  the  sides.  Finding  we  could  get  no  nearer 
view,  we  started  down  the  hill,  feeling  with  our  poles  as 
we  went,  not  knowing  what  was  under  us,  but  pretty 
sure  it  was  a  flow,  or  something  worse. 

"Our  guide  broke  a  bubble  with  his  pole,  after  let- 
ting one  of  us  go  over  it,  disclosing  another  horrible 


j.,2  CRATER  OF  KILAUEA. 

flow  nearly  two  feet  wide,  which  was  gradually  melting 
the  crust  over  it,  and  from  which  nothing  could  have 
saved  us  had  we  broken  through.  We  followed  in  the 
footsteps  of  the  guide  after  that  until  we  got  into  older 
and  harder  looking  lava. 

"  After  dark,  not  satisfied  with  the  view  we  had  had, 
I  took  a  gallop  around  the  side  of  the  crater  to  where, 
from  the  highest  part  of  the  bluff,  we  could  look  down 
into  the  lake.  The  scene  was  one  of  fearful  beauty ; 
the  crust  which  had  formed  over  the  lake  in  the  last 
few  hours  was  cracked  in  various  places,  showing  the 
line  of  fire  beneath,  while  all  around  the  edges  the  lava 
was  boiling  over  and  lashing  the  banks.  Soon  the  lake 
began  to  heave  and  surge,  and  in  five  or  six  places  jets 
of  the  liquid  were  being  thrown  up  in  the  air  from  the 
fiery  mass  beneath,  as  though  they  were  showing  what 
they  could  do  if  they  chose.  The  flow  in  the  bottom 
of  the  crater  was  extending  rapidly,  and  showed  much 
more  plainly  than  in  the  day.  A  steam  bath,  using  the 
steam  from  one  of  the  many  cracks  in  the  ground,  re- 
freshed us  exceedingly  and  helped  us  sleep. 

"  The  next  morning,  about  daybreak,  we  were  awak- 
ened by  a  bright  light,  and  going  to  the  bank  of  the 
crater,  we  saw  that  the  flow  had  reached  our  side,  and 
finding  a  little  jumping-off  place,  had  formed  a  regular 
waterfall  of  liquid  lava  about  thirty  feet  wide  and 
twenty  high,  and  lighting  up  the  very  skies." 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.  133 


THE   CONQUEST   OF    MEXICO. 

the  time  of  the  discovery  of  America  a  rich 
and  powerful  nation  existed  in  Mexico,  consid- 
erably advanced  in  agriculture,  architecture,  and 
many  of  the  arts  of  civilization  and  enlightenment. 

They  had  cities  containing  hundreds  of  thousands 

of  inhabitants ;  they  built  roads,  and  bridges,  and 
temples,  and  lived  under  a  regular  system  of  govern- 
ment, faithfully  administered.  The  people,  however, 
were  pagans,  bowing  down  to  dumb  idols  of  wood  and 
stone,  and  sacrificing  to  their  bloody  shrines  hundreds 
of  human  victims. 

The  New  World  had  been  discovered  about  fifteen 
years,  and  the  glowing  accounts  of  navigators,  describ- 
ing the  beauties  of  natural  scenery,  the  balmy  atmos- 
phere, the  flowery  groves  and  bowers  of  splendor; 
and,  above  all,  the  untold  wealth  of  gold  and  silver, 
fired  the  ambitious  mind  of  Europe  for  adventure  and 
enterprise. 

About  this  time  there  lived  in  Spain  a  young  Cas- 
tilian  of  extraordinary  ambition  and  energy,  by  the 
name  of  Hernando  Cortez.  The  love  of  adventure 
seemed  to  thrill  through  every  fiber  of  his  being ;  and, 
bidding  his  friends  adieu,  he  set  sail  for  America  and 
landed  in  Cuba,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one.  Obtaining 
from  the  governor  a  beautiful  plantation,  to  be  worked 
by  slaves,  he  lived  in  idleness  for  several  years,  occa- 
sionally engaging  in  disputes  and  quarrels,  in  one  of 
which  he  was  arrested  and  thrown  into  prison. 

For  some  time  his  life  was  somewhat  stormy,  but 
at  length  he  married  a  lady  of  some  rank,  and  sue- 


j-.  THE  CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO. 

ceeded  in  gaining  the  good  will  of  the  governor.  The 
entire  population  of  the  island  was  now  thrown  into 
the  wildest  state  of  excitement  by  the  news  of  the  dis- 
covery of  a  mighty  empire  in  the  west,  just  over  the 
waves  of  the  Mexican  gulf.  It  must  be  visited;  it 
must  be  conquered ;  it  must  be  taken  in  the  name  of 
the  king  of  Spain.  An  expedition  was  fitted  out  and 
Cortez  was  given  the  command.  It  was  the  proudest 
moment  of  his  life.  He  was  eager,  energetic  and 
enthusiastic. 

Cortez  was  now  thirty-three  years  of  age.  With 
such  earnestness  and  indefatigable  energy  did  he 
proceed  with  his  preparations,  that  the  governor,  fear- 
ing him  as  a  rival,  sent  an  order  to  deprive  him  of 
command.  But  it  was  too  late  to  intercept  him,  and 
he  sailed  away,  to  land  in  due  time  on  the  distant 
shores  of  Yucatan.  He  had  seized  two  ships  before 
leaving  the  Cuban  coast,  and  his  fleet  was  now  com- 
posed of  eleven  sailing  vessels,  the  largest  of  which 
would  scarcely  carry  a  hundred  tons.  His  entire  force 
consisted  of  five  hundred  and  fifty-three  soldiers,  a 
hundred  and  ten  sailors  and  twp  hundred  Indians. 
They  were  mostly  armed  with  cross-bows,  lances  and 
battle-axes,  though  they  had  quite  a  number  of  muskets, 
and  fourteen  small  cannon.  They  also  had  sixteen 
horses —  the  first  that  ever  trod  the  soil  of  the  Ameri- 
can continent  —  and  were  well  supplied  with  ammuni- 
tion. 

The  natives  were  assembled  and  informed,  through 
an  interpreter,  that  Cortez  had  come  to  establish  God's 
holy  Catholic  religion  in  the  New  World.  They  were 
at  once  commanded  to  turn  from  their  dumb  idols  of 
wood  and  stone,  and  range  themselves  under  the  ban- 
ner of  the  cross.  This  they  refused  to  do.  Paganism 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.  j~- 

though  it  was,  they  clung  to  their  system  of  religion 
with  a  tenacity  and  a  faith  worthy  of  Christians.  In  the 
fullness  of  their  ignorance  they  fondly  believed  their 
idols  would  save  them  from  the  wrath  of  the  invader. 
If  they  were  to  turn  aside  and  incur  their  displeasure, 
they  really  believed  the  earth  would  rend  and  quake, 
bringing  upon  them  overwhelming  ruin  and  destruction. 

Expostulations  being  in  vain,  Cortez  turned  his 
artillery  upon  them,  and  ordered  the  cavalry  to  charge 
up  to  the  doors  of  the  temple.  The  place  was  quickly 
cleared  and  the  idols  hewn  down  and  demolished. 
The  natives  looked  on  in  fear  and  consternation.  Re- 
sistance appeared  to  them  hopeless,  and  they  sub- 
mitted to  the  will  of  the  cruel  Spaniard. 

On  the  4th  of  March,  1519,  they  again  set  sail  for 
the  westward,  and  at  the  end  of  nine  days  they  an- 
chored at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Tobasco.  They 
had  reached  the  mainland  of  Mexico,  and  active  opera- 
tions were  about  to  be  commenced.  Invoking  the  bless- 
ing of  God,  they  embarked  in  boats  and  proceeded  up 
the  river.  Most  of  the  way  the  stream  was  lined  with 
majestic  fprest  trees,  thick  underbrush  and  trailing 
vines,  with  clusters  and  festoons  of  sweet-scented 
flowers.  The  soldiers  were  highly  elated,  and  they 
laughed  and  chatted,  and  sang  songs  in  joyous  trans- 
port as  they  proceeded  around  the  graceful  curves  and 
bends  amid  the  splendid  scenery.  To  their  excited 
imagination  it  seemed  to  be  a  region  of  beauty  border- 
ing on  some  fairy  land. 

Hundreds  of  natives  were  seen  following  along  the 
bank  and  flitting  among  the  trees,  watching  their  move- 
ments with  a  jealous  eye,  and  evincing  by  their  jestures 
and  actions  a  spirit  of  resistance.  Reaching  an  open- 
ing in  the  forest,  where  a  beautiful  meadow  sloped  back 


!^6  THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO. 

from  the  stream,  Cortez  decided  to  postpone  farther 
advance  for  the  day.  Rowing  his  boats  to  an  island  in 
the  center  of  the  river,  he  established  his  quarters  for 
the  night,  intending  to  make  a  landing  in  the  morning. 
Daylight  revealed  the  river  swarming  with  war  canoes, 
and  a  host  of  Indians  drawn  up  in  battle  array  on  the 
shore. 

A  terrible  battle  ensued,  and  an  immense  number  of 
the  natives  were  slain.  Superior  skill  triumphed,  and 
Cortez  marched  into  the  city  of  Tobasco,  amid  show- 
ers of  stones,  clubs  and  arrows,  that  fell  harmlessly 
upon  the  iron  armor  of  the  invading  Spaniards.  March- 
ing to  a  great  tree  that  grew  in  the  center  of  a  noble 
square,  Cortez  cut  three  gashes  across  the  bark,  and 
raising  the  gilded  banner  above  his  head,  took  posses- 
sion of  the  city  in  the  name  of  the  "  Royal  Sovereign 
of  Spain." 

The  whole  country  was  now  fully  aroused.  Immense 
numbers  flocked  together  to  repel  the  foul  invader. 
Who  shall  say  that  their  cause  was  not  just?  Cortez 
sent  for  his  cannon,  horses,  and  every  available  man, 
and  on  their  arrival  raised  a  gorgeous  black  velvet  ban- 
ner, embroidered  with  gold,  and  adorned  with  a  richly 
wrought  cross,  and  marched  haughtily  forth  to  massa- 
cre the  army  of  brave  defenders.  On  a  level  plain,  a 
few  miles  from  the  city,  the  two  forces  met.  The  na- 
tives outnumbered  the  Spaniards  more  than  fifty  to 
one.  The  contest  was  terrible,  and  the  slaughter  of 
the  Mexicans  merciless  and  awful.  They  thought  the 
horse  and  rider  of  their  opponents  one  and  the  same 
animal,  and  the  voice  of  the  artillery  they  imagined  to 
be  thunder  from  heaven,  and  they  were  paralyzed  with 
mortal  fear.  They  fled  in  terror,  and  Cortez  pursued, 
exulting  in  the  horrid  carnage.  The  Mexican  army 


THE   CONQUEST   OF  MEXICO.  l^ 

was  almost  annihilated,  and  the  feeble  remnant  hast- 
ened to  purchase  peace  at  any  price.  The  cruel  invader 
told  them  he  would  forgive  them  if  they  would  send  in 
their  entire  submission.  "  But,"  said  he,  "  if  you  refuse 
you  may  prepare  for  the  worst.  Remember,  with  my 
force  and  power  I  can  ride  over  the  land  and  put  every 
living  thing  in  it,  man,  woman  and  child,  to  the  sword." 

The  spirit  of  resistance  was  broken,  and  trembling 
with  fear  they  appealed  to  the  conqueror  for  clemency 
and  mercy.  Dashing  their  idols  to  fragments  and  rear- 
ing the  cross  of  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  he  departed 
for  the  seat  of  the  great  empire  in  the  interior.  De- 
scending the  river  to  his  ships  he  re-embarked,  and 
sailed  away  to  the  westward.  After  a  voyage  of  sev- 
eral hundred  miles,  during  which  the  villages  and  lux- 
uriant plantations  of  the  Mexicans  were  often  visible 
from  the  decks,  he  landed  at  San  Juan  de  Ulua. 

A  camp  was  immediately  formed,  and  hundreds  of 
unoffending  natives  thronged  the  vicinity  to  witness  the 
grand  display  of  the  soldiers  of  the  white  race  beyond 
the  seas.  A  fleet  native  courier  had  been  sent  to  the 
seat  of  the  great  empire,  and  in  a  few  days  an  embassy 
arrived  from  the  Mexican  capital,  magnificently  attired, 
and  bearing  presents  of  value  to  the  Spaniards.  Among 
these  were  ornaments  of  feathers  and  beadwork,  inter- 
spersed with  jewels,  and  richly  wrought  articles  of  silver 
and  gold.  There  were  also  two  grand  circular  plates, 
of  the  size  of  carriage  wheels,  one  of  silver,  represent- 
ing the  moon,  and  the  other  of  pure  gold,  worth  over 
$200,000,  representing  the  sun.  These  princely  gifts 
were  accompanied  with  the  good  wishes  of  the  ruling 
emperor,  Montezuma,  and  with  the  kind  request  that 
he  would  depart  in  peace,  carrying  his  best  respects  to 
his  brother,  the  king  of  Spain. 


j^g  THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO. 

Cortez  received  the  proffered  gifts,  but  declared  he 
could  not  forbear  a  visit  to  the  Mexican  emperor.  The 
ambassadors  returned,  after  vainly  trying  to  persuade 
him  that  his  proposal  would  be  in  vain  ;  and  in  ten  days 
they  again  appeared,  bearing  truly  imperial  gifts,  and 
assuring  him  that  their  emperor  could  not  suffer  their 
further  approach  upon  his  capital.  The  magnificent 
presents  they  had  received  inspired  the  lustful  hearts 
of  the  Spaniards  with  a  determination  to  conquer  the 
golden  territory,  and  after  quelling  a  discord  among 
themselves,  they  pushed  on  to  Zempoalla,  a  city  of 
some  thirty  thousand  inhabitants.  Destroying  their 
idols,  and  installing  in  their  place  an  image  of  the  Holy 
Virgin,  they  forced  the  people  to  bow  before  the  sove- 
reign religion  of  Rome.  The  cry  was  now  raised, 
"Onward  to  Mexico."  It  was  early  in  August,  1519; 
the  route  of  their  march  l,ay  through  a  beautiful  coun- 
try, abounding  in  flowery  splendor  and  tropical  lux- 
uriance. Passing  Naulinco,  they  entered  the  defiles  of 
the  mountains ;  and  after  three  days  passed  in  toilsome 
ascent,  they  came  out  upon  the  flowery  table-land  and 
broad  rolling  savannas  of  the  Cordilleras,  seven  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

Before  them,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, were  groves, 
hedges,  cultivated  fields,  roads,  villages  and  cities. 
The  land  seemed  to  be  overflowing  with  plenty.  An 
industrious  and  peaceable  population  thronged  the 
thoroughfares,  and  labored  in  the  fields.  They  soon 
reached  the  large  city  of  Tlatlanquitepec,  where  they 
found  a  hundred  thousand  skulls  piled  in  regular 
order,  where  human  beings  had  been  offered  in  sacrifice 
to  the  idols  or  carved  gods  of  the  natives.  After  vainly 
trying  to  establish  his  religion  here,  Cortez  marched 
on  from  one  village  to  another,  plundering  and  robbing 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.  139 

as  he  saw  fit,  until  he  reached  the  rich  and  powerful 
country  of  the  Tlascalans. 

This  nation  was  the  rival  of  the  empire  of  Monte- 
zuma,  and  for  many  years  it  had  successfully  resisted 
that  powerful  monarch.  A  hostile  force  soon  appeared, 
and  a  fearful  battle  ensued.  The  timely  arrival  of  the 
artillery  saved  the  Spaniards  from  destruction.  Con- 
tinuing their  march,  they  wound  along  a  delightful 
valley,  and  as  they  were  emerging  into  a  broad  savanna 
they  beheld  the  Tlascalan  warriors,  in  overwhelming 
numbers,  drawn  up  in  battle  array  before  them.  The 
waving  plumes  and  banners,  and  glittering  helmets  of 
the  countless  host,  for  the  moment  filled  the  hearts  of 
the  Spaniards  with  alarm ;  but  they  had  reached  that 
point  where  there  was  no  turning  back.  The  onset 
was  terrible,  and  the  slaughter  on  the  side  of  the 
natives  indiscriminate  and  awful.  All  day  long  ball 
and  grape-shot  plowed  their  close  ranks,  mowing  them 
down  without  mercy ;  and  as  the  sun  sank  to  rest  they 
retreated,  leaving  the  ground  covered  with  dead  and 
dying.  Cortez  sent  an  embassy,  asking  for  an  armis- 
tice, and  permission  to  visit  their  capital.  The  answer 
was  sharp  and  defiant.  "  The  Spaniards,"  said  they, 
"  may  pass  on  as  soon  as  they  choose  to  Tlascala. 
When  they  reach  it  their  flesh  will  be  hewn  from  their 
bones  for  sacrifice  to  the  gods.  If  they  prefer  to  re- 
main where  they  are,  we  shall  visit  them  to-morrow." 

The  morning  of  the  5th  of  September  dawned,  and 
the  Spanish  army  slowly  commenced  its  march.  Their 
whole  number,  including  the  natives  that  had  joined 
them,  was  scarce  three  thousand  men.  To  them  it  was 
a  gloomy  hour.  They  had  marched  a  little  over  a 
mile  when  they  came  upon  the  enemy,  a  hundred 
thousand  strong,  extending  over  a  wide  plain  six  miles 


I4Q  THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO. 

square.  With  wild  yells  and  hideous  clangor  the  awful 
carnage  commenced.  Like  ocean's  resistless  wave, 
the  Tlascalans  rushed  forward,  fairly  darkening  the 
sky  with  showers  of  arrows  and  javelins.  The  Spanish 
artillery  belched  forth  its  load  of  death-dealing  hail  and 
missiles  of  destruction,  and  whole  platoons  fell  bleed- 
ing to  the  ground.  Hour  after  hour  the  awful  conflict 
raged.  The  ground  was  drenched  with  blood,  and 
covered  with  mutilated,  bleeding,  dying  humanity. 
Every  horse,  and  nearly  every  man  in  the  Spanish 
army  was  bleeding,  and  many  had  fallen.  At  length, 
when  the  Spaniards  had  fought  to  the  utmost  point 
of  their  endurance,  the  tide  of  battle  turned.  The 
Tlascalans  broke  and  fled,  and  the  invaders,  rending 
the  air  with  their  exultant  shouts  of  victory,  .-dashed 
after  them  like  infuriated  demons,  cutting  them  down 
until  they  grew  weary  at  the  hideous  work  of  merciless 
slaughter. 

A  treaty  was  made,  and  the  idols  in  the  great  city 
of  Tlascala  overthrown.  With  terrible  threats,  Cortez 
awed  the  people  into  complete  submission,  and  forced 
them  to  bow  to  his  religion.  In  about  three  weeks 
he  again  set  forth.  A  hundred  thousand  natives 
offered  him  their  services.  Taking  six  thousand,  they 
marched  away,  and  after  several  days  arrived  at  the 
city  of  Cholula.  It  was  handsomely  laid  out  in  streets 
and  squares,  and  contained  a  hundred  thousand  in- 
habitants. The  Spaniards  were  amazed  at  the  aspect 
of  luxury  and  refinement  which  met  them  on  every 
side.  Assembling  an  immense  multitude  in  a  beautiful 
square,  Cortez  pretended  for  a  moment  to  address  them. 
All  the  Cholulan  officers  of  rank  were  there,  and  a 
vast  throng  of  innocent  and  unoffending  women  and 
children.  Around  them  stood  the  blood-thirsty  Span- 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.  j^! 

iards.  At  a  preconcerted  signal,  every  musket  and 
every  cannon  were  suddenly  discharged  into  the  un- 
suspecting host,  and  the  mailed  cavaliers,  with  blood- 
curdling yells,  rushed  upon  them  with  dripping  knife 
and  saber.  Neither  age,  sex  nor  condition  was  spared. 
The  unarmed  and  defenseless  inhabitants  cried  for 
mercy,  and  in  wild  confusion  ran  hither  and  thither, 
seeking  to  escape ;  but  a  perfect  hail-storm  of  iron,  and 
lead,  and  steel,  met  them  on  every  side,  and  they  fell 
like  reeds  before  the  whirlwind.  The  Tlascalan  allies 
joined  in  the  fiendish  work,  and  dashing  through  the 
streets,  with  triumphant  war-whoops,  butchered  every 
one  they  could  find.  The  city  was  fired,  and  the 
flames  lapped  up  the  unsightly  pools  of  blood,  and 
blackened  the  ghastly  heaps  of  mutilated  carcasses. 

Cortez  immediately  erected  a  cross  and  an  image 
of  the  Virgin,  and  offered  public  thanksgivings  to  God 
for  the  victory ;  declaring  his  only  intention  was  to 
convert  all  unbelieving  pagans,  and  turn  their  hearts 
from  heathen  idolatry  to  the  true  Christian  religion 
of  Jesus!  Cortez  was  a  fanatic;  a  blind  religious 
enthusiast.  Perhaps,  in  the  fullness  of  his  ignorance, 
he  believed  he  was  working  for  the  cause  of  Christ. 
Had  he  read  His  word,  however,  he  would  have 
learned  differently,  and  might  have  looked  upon  his 
infamous  work  as  the  world  looks  back  upon  it  to-day. 

Proceeding  onward,  after  many  days'  weary  march, 
they  looked  down  from  a  gentle  eminence  upon  the 
glittering  palaces  and  gilded  temples  of  Mexico.  City 
after  city,  alarmed  for  their  safety,  came  forward  in  fear 
and  trembling  to  offer  their  submission  and  allegiance. 
With  glistening  armor  and  waving  banners  they 
marched  proudly  forward  over  the  intervening  plain, 
and  across  the  causeway  into  the  island  city.  The 


142  THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO. 

scene  was  almost  enchanting.  Parks  and  groves  and 
flowery  gardens  were  laid  out  in  beautiful  designs ;  and 
the  streets,  palaces  and  pagodas  rivaled  in  architectural 
splendor  the  nobler  examples  of  the  Old  World.  Mon- 
tezuma  sent  an  embassy,  offering  many  loads  of  gold  if 
the  invaders  would  desist  from  their  work,  but  Cortez 
was  inexorable,  and  moving  on  he  took  up  his  quarters 
in  a  row  of  strong  stone  buildings.  Montezuma  soon 
made  his  appearance,  seated  in  a  magnificent  palanquin, 
clothed  in  more  than  Oriental  splendor.  A  conference 
was  held,  but  no  terms  were  agreed  upon. 

One'day  the  emperor  led  the  Spanish  chieftain  into 
the  temple,  into  the  apartment  of  the  great  Mexican 

fod.  The  gilded  walls  and  floor  were  bespattered  with 
lood,  and  three  human  hearts,  yet  warm  and  almost 
palpitating,  lay  upon  the  sacrificial  altar.  Near  by  were 
the  priests,  with  their  bloody  knives,  and  bare  arms  be- 
smeared with  gore.  The  sight  was  too  revolting  for 
even  the  cruel  heart  of  Cortez,  and  his  inner  instincts  of 
humanity  arose  in  his  bosom.  Montezuma  was  seized 
as  a  prisoner  and  bound  in  chains.  Disturbances  arose 
between  the  soldiers  and  natives,  and  hundreds  of  the 
Mexicans  were  massacred. 

The  whole  population  of  the  city,  over  five  hundred 
thousand  in  number,  were  in  a  fever  of  excitement.  At 
length  the  disturbance  ripened  into  a  general  outbreak. 
The  army  of  Cortez  was  assailed  by  countless  thousands, 
and  the  most  bloody  conflict  occurred  that  the  soil  of 
America  had  ever  witnessed.  The  city  was  on  fire,  the 
smoke  was  suffocating,  and  the  din  of  battle,  rising  from 
a  hundred  thousand  combatants,  convulsed  the  air  with 
unearthly  clangor.  Closer  and  closer  they  drew  about 
the  besieged  Spaniards,  and  at  last  Cortez  approached 
his  royal  prisoner  and  asked  him  to  interpose. 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.  l^ 

Montezuma,  attired  in  his  regal  robes,  ascended  the 
rampart,  in  the  full  presence  of  his  subjects,  and  in- 
stantly the  tumult  was  hushed  in  silence.  But  with  the 
first  word  advocating  a  cessation  of  hostilities,  the  air 
was  darkened  by  arrows,  clubs  and  stones,  and  he  fell 
mortally  wounded.  The  desperate  struggle  was  renewed 
with  more  energy  than  before  ;  the  Mexicans  declaring 
that  they  would  crush  the  invaders,  even  if  they  had  to 
destroy  a  thousand  of  their  own  men  for  a  single  one  of 
the  enemy.  At  length  Cortez  was  obliged  to  retreat. 
We  will  not  worry  the  reader  with  a  description  of  the 
awful  battle  along  the  causeway,  and  over  the  broken 
chasms,  that  had  to  be  bridged  by  human  bodies  and 
the  broken  debris  of  war.  It  was  hand  to  hand,  sicken- 
ing and  terrible.  Onward  they  cut  their  way,  through 
the  living  mass  of  opposing  humanity,  for  miles.  Their 
cannon  were  gone,  their  clothes  torn  and  tattered,  and 
their  bodies  wounded  and  bleeding.  War-worn,  blood- 
stained and  weary,  they  at  length  reached  the  land  of 
the  Tlascalans,  and  were  safe. 

Months  passed  away.  At  length,  receiving  reenforce- 
ments,  and  a  fresh  supply  of  ammunition,  artillery  and 
horses,  Cortez  again  ordered  the  march  upon  Mexico. 
Battle  succeeded  battle ;  and  for  weary  days  they 
pressed  their  way  forward,  inch  by  inch,  until  they 
again  threaded  the  narrow  causeway,  and  entered  the 
Mexican  capital.  A  last  mighty  struggle  ensued,  more 
terrible  and  sanguinary  than  any  that  had  preceded  it. 
The  city  was  reduced  to  a  mass  of  ruins  ;  and  the  streets 
and  broken  causeways  ran  red  with  blood.  Guatemozin, 
who  was  now  emperor  in  place  of  Montezuma,  was 
taken  prisoner  while  endeavoring  to  escape  in  a  boat, 
and  brought  into  the  presence  of  Cortez.  "  I  have 
fought,"  said  he,  "  as  became  a  king.  I  have  defended 


144  PATAGONIA   AND    THE  PATAGONIANS. 

my  people  to  the  last.  Nothing  remains  but  to  die. 
Plunge  this  dagger  into  my  bosom,  and  end  a  life  which 
is  henceforth  useless." 

Upon  the  capture  of  Guatemozin  the  carnage  ceased. 
It  was  the  i6th  of  August,  1521.  Mexico,  the  proud 
Aztec  city,  had  fallen,  and  the  empire  of  Montezuma 
had  passed  away. 


PATAGONIA  AND  THE  PATAGONIANS. 

|HE  Patagonians  are  a  race  of  savages  of  large 
stature,  with  high  cheek-bones,  black  eyes,  ex- 
pressive of  savage  cunning,  and  straight,  thick, 
long,  coarse  black  hair.  They  have  no  canoes,  and 
hate  the  water  ;  but  they  are  fond  of  rum  and  whisky. 
Their  social  life  is  of  the  Mormon  characteristics.  The 
Patagonian  wives  are  merely  slaves.  Their  cookery  is 
not  elaborate;  they  merely  heat  huge  slabs  of  flesh, 
and  devour  this  nearly  raw  food  with  the  ferocity  of 
tigers.  Their  temper  is  evil  and  fierce  in  the  extreme. 
They  have  all  the  savages'  instinctive  love  of  orna- 
ments. Their  religion  is  as  rude  as  their  lives.  They 
believe  in  a  good  spirit  and  an  evil  spirit.  In  the 
spring  they  hold  festivals  of  worship  in  honor  of  the 
good  spirit.  This  occasion  is  made  a  time  of  elab- 
orate display  of  all  the  finery  which  they  possess.  The 
women  chant  monotonously,  beating  time  on  rude  tam- 
bourines. They  dance  facing  the  east,  with  their  lances 
arranged  symmetrically  in  front  of  the  place.  Many  of 
the  men  blow  on  rude  reed  fifes  as  they  dance,  making 
spasmodic  and  diabolical  strains. 


PATAGONIA   AND    THE  PATAGONIANS.  145 

At  a  signal  from  the  chief,  the  programme  changes ; 
the  men  leap  upon  their  horses,  form  a  cavalcade,  and 
proceed  to  display  their  feats  of  horsemanship.  These 
performances,  with  brief  intermissions,  are  kept  up  for 
days. 

Patagonia  is  eight  hundred  and  forty  miles  long  and 
two  hundred  miles  wide.  It  is  situated  in  South  Amer- 
ica, ending  on  the  northern  shore  of  the  straits  of 
Magellan.  It  is  a  desert  region.  Hardly  a  tree  is 
seen  ;  no  alluvial  valleys  are  there,  only  coarse  herbage 
and  thorny  brushwood  are  to  be  seen.  The  few  rivers 
that  traverse  it  run  over  pebbly  beds,  and  the  soil  is 
everywhere  sand  and  gravel.  It  is  chiefly  interesting 
to  the  savage  inhabitants,  and  to  scientific  students  for 
the  formation  of  its  plants,  which  are  unlike  those  of 
any  other  region  of  the  world. 

The  country  is  a  succession  of  terraced  plains,  the 
lowest  (near  the  Atlantic),  being  ninety  feet,  and  the 
highest,  nine  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  sea.  These  plains  have  no  charm  of  climate  to 
offset  the  sterility  of  the  soil ;  winds  howl,  and  sleet 
drifts  over  them  the  greater  part  of  the  year ;  but  there 
are  alluvial  belts,  near  the  rivers,  which  might  become 
fruitful  under  cultivation.  But  the  roving  Patagonians 
depend  upon  the  chase  for  subsistence.  Their  horses 
are  small  and  wiry,  with  shaggy  hides,  and  their  mas- 
ters often  remain  all  day  in  the  saddle  when  the  chase 
is  at  its  height. 

The  Patagonian  weapon  is  the  spear.  They  have 
no  firearms,  neither  bows  and  arrows,  but  each  savage 
is  armed  with  a  long  knife,  which  he  has  purchased 
from  traders  in  the  neighboring  countries. 

When  a  troop  of  these  wild  horsemen  are  seen 
scouring  across  the  plains  in  pursuit  of  game,  with 


146 


AN  OPIUM  DEN. 


their  long  hair  streaming  in  the  wind,  their  wicked 
visages  and  colossal  breasts  smeared  with  grease  and 
soot,  they  look  like  a  squadron  of  gigantic  furies  arisen 
from  Plutonian  regions,  and  might  strike  a  thrill  of 
terror  through  the  bravest  heart. 


AN  OPIUM  DEN. 

FIRST-CLASS  opium  den  is  fitted  with  a  table 
about  eight  feet  long  and  five  feet  wide,  and 
about  two  and  one-half  feet  high.  This  is  cov- 
ered with  matting,  and  fine  mats  are  placed  on  this. 
In  the  center  of  the  table  is  a  tray  containing 
opium,  opium  pipes,  and  a  peculiarly  shaped  lamp, 
\vhich  has  a  small  flame.  The  opium  pipe  is  made  of  a 
piece  of  mahogany  or  ebony  wood.  The  stem  is  an 
inch  in  diameter,  and  about  two  feet  in  length.  A  hole 
about  half  an  inch  in  diameter  runs  the  whole  length  of 
the  stem.  About  six  inches  from  the  end  of  the  stem 
is  the  bowl  of  the  pipe.  It  is  made  of  a  peculiar  kind  of 
sand  and  clay  in  China,  and  is  very  hard  and  fire-proof. 
The  bowl  is  about  two  inches  in  diameter.  The  top  of 
the  bowl  is  entirely  closed,  except  a  small  hole  in  the 
center,  about  the  size  of  a  large  darning-needle.  In  the 
bottom  is  a  hole  about  half  an  inch  in  diameter,  into 
which  is  inserted  a  brass  coupling,  connecting  the  stem 
of  the  pipe.  The  opium  is  kept  in  a  small  box  made 
of  horn.  Every  Chinaman  carries  one. 

When  a  person  desires  to  smoke  opium,  he  reclines 
upon  the  table,  upon  one  side.     With  a  piece  of  steel, 


AN  OPIUM  DEN. 

T47 

about  the  length  and  size  of  a  large  knitting  needle  and 
sharp-pointed,  a  little  of  the  opium  is  taken  from  the 
box.  It  is  held  over  the  blaze  of  the  lamp  until  it  is 
thoroughly  cooked.  The  piece  of  steel  is  kept  in 
motion  all  the  time,  and  the  opium  when  cooked  is 
formed  into  the  shape  of  a  small  pistol  cartridge.  The 
point  of  the  steel  needle  is  then  inserted  into  the  small 
hole  in  the  center  of  the  bowl  of  the  pipe,  and  gently 
drawn  through  the  cartridge  of  opium.  The  smoker 
then  turns  the  bowl  of  the  pipe  to  the  flame  of  the 
lamp,  reposes  upon  a  wooden  pillow,  and  smokes.  He 
gently  draws  in  his  breath  in  long  and  rapid  respiration. 
He  must  be  careful,  however,  to  slightly  remove  his  lips 
from  the  stem  of  the  pipe  when  taking  breath.  If  he 
should  breathe  slightly  into  the  stem  it  stops  the  flow  of 
the  smoke  of  the  opium.  When  the  flow  is  stopped  the 
sharp-pointed  steel  is  used  to  open  the  small  hole  in  the 
bowl  of  the  pipe.  It  takes  about  three  minutes  to  prepare 
the  opium  for  the  pipe,  and  about  one  to  smoke  it  out,  ten 
or  twelve  whiffs  only  being  required.  From  six  to 
twelve  pipefuls  are  generally  smoked  before  the  smoker 
is  satisfied. 

A  little  over  a  year  ago  a  great  many  white  people 
of  both  sexes  patronized  the  opium  dens.  The  board 
of  supervisors  of  San  Francisco  deemed  it  best  to  put 
a  check  upon  the  growing  evil,  and  a  stringent  law  was 
passed,  making  it  a  penalty  of  not  less  than  $50  nor 
more  than  $500  for  the  keeper  of  any  opium  den  to 
allow  a  white  person  to  smoke  in  the  place.  It  was  also 
made  a  criminal  act  for  any  white  person  to  be  found  in 
an  opium  den,  the  fine  being  fixed  at  not  less  than  $50. 
Since  the  passage  of  this  law  the  dens  drive  a  less 
lucrative  business.  Their  customers  are  all  Chinese, 
two  generally  occupying  one  table  and  using  one  lamp. 


148  IGNIS  FAT U US. 

The  Chinese  resort  to  opium  smoking  for  any  slight 
ailment,  and  it  is  regarded  by  many  of  them  as  a 
panacea  for  all  their  ills. 


IGNIS    FATUUS. 

[HIS  phenomenon  is  often  met  with  in  all  coun- 
tries, and  is  one  that  has  remained  longer  a 
mystery  among  the  people  in  which  it  occurs, 
than  any  of  its  kind,  and  in  these  countries  like  all 

such  appearances,  accompanied  by  strange  stories 
of  disastrous  consequences,  have  been  attributed  to 
Satanic  agency,  and  from  its  supposed  effects  it  has 
been  named  "  Ignis  fatuus,"  "  Will  with  the  wisp ," 
and  "Jack  with  the  lantern,"  etc.  Its  appearance, 
and  wild  and  vague  history,  and  sad  traditions,  have 
done  much  to  bewilder  and  mislead  the  vulgar  mind  ; 
giving  rise  to  many  of  the  most  extravagant  and  sad 
tales  that  a  heated  imagination  can  possibly  devise. 

This  meteor,  or  light,  is  generally  seen  in  dark, 
damp  nights  of  summer — never  in  winter  —  over  wet, 
marshy  or  peaty  grounds,  in  which  it  is  generated,  and 
occasionally  over  damp  or  wettish  burying-grounds, 
giving  rise  in  the  latter  case  to  strange  and  frightful 
stories  of  ghosts  and  hobgoblins. 

Perhaps  in  all  morasses,  if  deep  enough,  the  bodies 
of  animals  are  deposited  from  being  mired  there,  these 
undergoing  decomposition  while  the  vegetable  sub- 
stances of  the  swamp  are  also  decomposed,  the  bones 
of  these  animals  being  chiefly  phosphorus  and  lime, 


FATUUS. 


149 


which,  with  the  potash  of  the  plants,  react  on  each 
other,  and  then  aided  by  the  summer's  heat  give  rise 
to  the  production  of  phosphureted  hydrogen  —  "Will 
o'  the  Wisp." 

This    compound   gas    coming    in    contact  with   the 


IGNIS    FATUUS  —  "JACK-O'-LANTERN." 

atmosphere  combines  with  the  oxygen  forming  water 
and  phosphoric  acid  with  the  liberation  of  a  little  of 
the  phosphorus  vapor.  When  these  unions  take  place 
they  burst  into  a  flash  of  flame  of  the  most  vivid  and 


ICQ  THE  MONKET  RACE. 

intense  light,  which  flash  but  for  a  moment.     This  is 
the  "  Ignis  fatuus,"  the  fatal  or  deceptive  fire. 

It  is  maintained  by  reputed  witnesses  that  this  light 
travels  and  allures  the  benighted  traveler  to  follow  it 
by  decoying  him  into  some  fatal,  swampy  spot,  where 
it  leaves  him  to  his  death  fate ;  hence  it  is  also  named 
"  Jack  with  the  lantern."  The  fact  that  these  chemical 
phenomena  which  I  have  described  may  be  going  on 
in  different  spots  nearly  at  the  same  time,  may,  to  the 
credulously  timid  and  excited  mind,  be  easily  imagined 
to  have  a  progressive  movement  in  a  dark  night,  but  in 
reality  no  such  movement  takes  place. 


THE   MONKEY   RACE. 

[HOSE  who  have  never  studied  minutely  the 
natural  history  of  the  tropical  lands,  will  be 
surprised  when  they  learn  of  the  multitudes 
of  monkeys  that  inhabit  their  forests ;  and  this 
surprise  will  be  increased  when  they  learn  of 
the  great  variety  of  species  of  this  singular  animal. 
It  would  seem  as  though  an  effort  had  been  made  to 
multiply  them  above  all  other  races  of  animals,  and  to 
diversify  them  to  the  greatest  extent  with  respect  to 
size,  form,  color  and  disposition. 

All  this  is  seen  in  the  monkey  tribes  of  the  Old 
World,  in  equatorial  Africa,  and  in  the  Indies,  but 
these,  as  a  race,  differ  greatly  from  those  found  in  the 
tropical  forests  of  our  own  continent. 

It   would    seem    as   though    some    are    formed    to 


THE  MONKET  RACE.  ,  j-  j 

burlesque  human  nature,  or  to  see  how  near  a  human 
being  an  animal  can  be  made,  and  yet  not  touch  its 
essential  points,  the  form,  the  expression,  the  voice, 
sympathy,  all  playing  closely  around  that  circle  that 
is  sacred  to  human  nature.  Others  are  formed,  it 
would  seem,  to  put  to  shame  the  acrobat  in  his  highest 
development.  I  once  visited  a  temple  grove  in  the 
East  Indies  in  which  was  an  orang-outang,  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind,  which  was  kept  by  the  priests  as  a 
sacred  animal.  It  was  of  cinnamon  color,  about  four 
feet  in  height,  with  a  face  strikingly  human,  and  a  look 
of  great  intelligence.  Its  arms  were  long  and  muscular, 
its  legs  short  and  light.  When  I  first  saw  it,  it  was 
sitting  on  the  limb  of  a  tree,  some  twelve  feet  from 
the  ground,  eating  fruit.  I  inquired  of  a  priest,  and 
he  told  me  that  he  was  "very  good  and  very  bad," 
that  he  was  "very  slow  and  very  fast."  He  said: 
"  When  he  gets  mad  we  all  have  to  ning-pi  [run],  but 
when  he  is  good,  he  is  kind  as  a  mother.  He  is  for 
a  long  time  lazy.  He  eats  and  sleeps,  and  that  is  all, 
but  pretty  soon,  all  at  once,  he  will,  just  for  play,  go 
among  the  trees  like  a  rocket." 

I  sat  and  watched  him  till  he  had  finished  his  meal, 
when  he  went  up  high  among  the  branches  and  began 
his  play,  as  if  to  show  me  what  he  could  do.  He  used 
only  his  arms,  but  with  these  he  would  propel  himself 
with  wonderful  rapidity  from  branch  to  branch,  and 
from  tree  to  tree.  Occasionally  he  would  fall,  by 
gradual  descent,  to  one  of  the  lower  limbs,  which  seiz- 
ing by  one  of  its  hands,  with  a  swing  would  throw 
itself  apparently  twenty  feet  among  the  high  branches 
of  an  adjoining  tree.  From  this  it  would  make  a  pro- 
digious leap  to  some  other  point  at  a  greater  distance, 
and  it  went  with  such  surprising  speed  that  it  was 


152 


THE  MONKET  RACE. 


with  difficulty  I  could  keep  it  in  view.  This  exercise 
was  kept  up  for  some  twenty  minutes  or  half  an  hour, 
when  it  returned  to  its  starting  point  for  rest  and  sleep. 
I  never  was  more  surprised  at  an  exhibition  of  agility, 
and  I  thought  how  tame  are  all  human  efforts  com- 
pared with  his. 

Among  the  monkey  tribes  are  found  almost  every 
degree  of  intelligence,  from  the  chimpanzee  to  the 
stupid  species  found  in  Brazil.  It  is  said  that  some 
of  them  construct  baskets  with  which  to  catch  fish,  and 
build  huts  in  which  to  live  and  keep  their  stores,  and 
arm  themselves  with  clubs  and  stones,  with  which  they 
defend  themselves  when  attacked. 

In  the  Indies  it  has  often  been  noticed  that  a  species 
of  small  brown  monkey,  after  trying  ineffectually  to 
break  a  cocoanut,  will  carry  it  high  up  in  a  tree  and 
let  it  fall,  and  repeat  the  experiment  if  necessary  many 
times,  or  until  it  breaks.  This  seems  to  show  calcula- 
tion, but  we  call  it  instinct.  We  generally,  I  think, 
associate  the  monkey  family  with  cunning  and  spright- 
liness,  but  there  are  some  kinds  almost  as  sluggish  as 
the  sloth,  that  seem  only  to  want  to  eat  and  sleep.  No 
race  of  animals  shows  a  greater  diversity  in  appearance 
than  the  monkey.  Some  are  nearly  as  large  as  a  man, 
and  others  no  larger  than  a  rat.  Some  are  neatly 
clothed  with  hair,  and  Bothers  are  almost  bare.  Some 
are  of  a  single  color,  and  others  'variegated  in  most 
curious  ways.  I  have  seen  them  among  the  trees  with 
faces  of  black  and  white,  and  blue,  and  the  look  was 
most  comical,  as  they  showed  their  teeth  and  chattered,, 
with  stretched  necks,  and  eyes  fastened  on  me. 

The  monkey  is  probably,  on  the  whole,  the  queerest 
of  all  the  animal  creation,  the  sport  of  boys  and  the 
study  of  men.  It  approaches  nearly  to  man,  but  can- 


THE  MONKEY  RACE.  ^3 

not  quite  touch  him.  It  tries  to  imitate  him,  but  soon 
reaches  bounds  that  it  cannot  pass. 

I  once,  when  hunting,  mistook  in  the  jungles  a 
monkey  for  another  animal,  and  brought  him  down 
from  a  tree  top.  When  I  came  to  bag  my  game,  I 
found  a  wounded  monkey  sitting  and  looking  at  me 
most  imploringly.  I  involuntarily  looked  around  to 
see  if  any  one  had  witnessed  the  sad  deed,  and  at  the 
moment  my  conscience  seemed  to  reproach  me  with 
fearful  guilt.  I  imagined  I  could  see  a  good  deal  of 
human  nature  in  the  stricken  animal  before  me. 

I  once  read  from  a  book  that  a  sea-voyager  once 
went  on  shore  in  a  monkey  land  with  a  bundle  of 
sailors'  caps  which  he  hoped  to  sell  to  the  natives. 
Being  weary,  he  laid  down  to  take  a  nap.  When  he 
awoke,  what  was  his  surprise  to  find  his  caps  gone, 
and  on  looking  up,  saw  them  on  the  heads  of  monkeys, 
that  were  chattering  in  high  glee  among  the  trees.  In 
his  anger  at  his  loss,  and  at  the  provoking  merriment 
of  the  thieves,  he  took  the  cap  he  had  on  his  head 
and  threw  it  to  the  ground  in  disgust,  saying :  "As 
you  rascals  have  all  the  rest,  you  may  take  this,  too." 
He  had  no  sooner  done  this  than  all  the  monkeys 
did  the  same,  and  he  was  permitted  to  pick  up  his 
property  and  go  on  his  way  rejoicing. 

I  once  had  a  little  ring-tailed  monkey  as  a  pet.  It 
cut  up  all  the  antics  possible  to  one  of  its  species,  but 
it  was  so  thievish  that  I  was  obliged  to  send  it  back 
to  the  woods  among  its  wild  neighbors. 

Mr.  Pollard  states  that  in  his  drinking  days  he  was 
the  companion  of  a  man  in  Arundel  county,  Maryland, 
who  had  a  monkey  which  he  valued  at  a  thousand  dol- 
lars. "  We  always  took  him  out  on  our  chestnut  par- 
ties. He  shook  off  all  our  chestnuts  for  us,  and  when 


j,-4  THE  MONKET  RACE. 

he  could  not  shake  them  off,  he  would  go  to  the  very 
end  of  the  limb  and  knock  them  off  with  his  fist.  One 
day  we  stopped  at  a  tavern  and  drank  freely.  About 
half  a  glass  of  whisky  was  left,  and  Jack  took  the  glass 
and  drank  it  all  up.  Soon  he  was  merry,  skipped, 
hopped  and  danced,  and  set  us  all  in  a  roar  of  laughter. 
Jack  was  drunk. 

"  We  all  agreed,  six  of  us,  that  we  would  come  to 
the  tavern  next  day  and  get  Jack  drunk  again,  and 
have  sport  all  day.  I  called  at  my  friend's  house  next 
morning  and  we  went  out  for  Jack.  Instead  of  being 
as  usual  on  his  box,  he  was  not  to  be  seen.  We  looked 
inside,  and  he  was  crouched  up  in  a  heap.  '  Come  out 
here,'  said  his  master.  Jack  came  out  on  three  legs ; 
his  fore-paw  was  upon  his  head.  Jack  had  the  head- 
ache ;  I  knew  what  was  the  matter  with  him.  He  felt 
just  as  I  felt  many  a  morning.  Jack  was  sick  and 
couldn't  go.  So  we  waited  three  days.  We  then  went, 
and  while  drinking,  a  glass  was  provided  for  Jack.  But 
where  was  he  ?  Skulking  behind  the  chairs.  '  Come 
here,  Jack,  and  drink,'  said  his  master,  holding  out  the 
glass  to  him.  Jack  retreated,  and  as  the  door  was 
opened,  slipped  out,  and  in  a  moment  was  on  top  of 
the  house.  His  master  went  out  to  call  him  down,  but 
he  would  not  come.  He  got  a  cow-skin  and  shook  it 
at  him.  Jack  sat  on  the  ridge-pole  and  refused  to  obey. 
His  master  got  a  gun  and  pointed  it  at  him.  A  mon- 
key is  much  afraid  of  a  gun.  Jack  slipped  over  the 
back  side  of  the  house.  His  master  then  got  two  guns, 
and  had  one  pointed  at  each  side  of  the  house,  when 
the  monkey,  seeing  his  predicament,  at  once  whipped 
upon  the  chimney,  and  got  down  in  one  of  the  flues, 
holding  on  by  his  fore-paws.  The  master  was  beaten. 
The  man  kept  that  monkey  twelve  years,  but  could 


THE  MONKEY  RACE.  !55 

never  persuade  him  to  taste  another  drop  of  whisky. 
The  beast  had  more  sense  than  a  man,  who  has  an 
immortal  soul,  and  thinks  himself  the  first  and  best  of 
God's  creatures  on  earth." 

I  once  witnessed  a  monkey  dinner  party.  It  was 
the  funniest  dinner  party  that  could  be  imagined.  Five 
highly  respectable  monkeys  sat  at  a  table  with  plates 
and  wine-glasses,  and  the  sprightliest,  most  attentive  of 
monkeys  waited  upon  them,  tray  in  hand,  like  a  good, 
highly  genteel  waitress,  as  she  was. 

The  monkey  at  the  head  of  the  table  was  dressed  as 
a  naval  officer,  with  admiral's  hat,  epaulets,  side  whis- 
kers, all  complete.  He  was  elegant  in  his  manner  when 
not  licking  his  plate,  and  he  had  an  injured,  reproachful 
way  of  turning  on  his  seat  and  looking  at  the  waitress, 
when  she  failed  to  bring  what  he  wanted,  that  was 
wonderful  to  see.  At  the  foot  of  the  feast  sat  a  farmer 
monkey,  in  funny  felt  hat,  white  smock  and  loose  trou- 
sers. He  had  a  tremendous  appetite,  and  soon  finished 
his  meal  and  began  knocking  hard  upon  the  table  for 
more.  The  admiral,  who  was  very  proud,  never  once 
noticed  him,  which  the  hungry  farmer  accepted  in  good 
part,  as  he  didn't  take  any  great  interest  in  admirals. 

But  the  side  of  the  table  was  the  liveliest,  after  all. 
In  the  middle  sat  a  fine  monkey  lady,  whom  I  after- 
ward learned  was  called  "  Mrs.  Lome,"  and  the  monkey 
gallants  on  each  side  took  turns  in  conversing  with  her. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  they  both  addressed  her  at  once, 
and  then  the  fashionable  Mrs.  Lome  would  utter  a 
feeble  screech  and  give  them  a  piece  of  her  mind,  to 
the  great  terror  of  the  farmer  and  the  amazement  of 
the  admiral.  She  was  a  lovely  creature  in  their  eyes, 
you  may  be  sure,  for  she  wore  a  red  velvet  dress  and  a 
white  hat  with  bright  pink  feather,  and  her  coquettish 


j-£  THE  MONKEY  RACE. 

way  of  tossing  her  head  was  quite  irresistible.  Wine 
was  freely  taken  by  all  the  guests,  but  I  learned  later 
that  it  was  only  raspberry  juice  and  water.  It  was 
funny  enough  to  see  them  take  up  their  glasses  in  one 
hand,  bow  to  each  other,  toss  off  the  contents,  and  then 
pound  the  table  for  a  fresh  supply. 

I  could  not  see  what  they  had  to  eat,  but  it  was 
something  good,  for  they  smacked  their  lips  over  it 
and  grabbed  bits  from  each  other's  plates  so  that  their 
master  frequently  was  obliged  to  expostulate  with 
them. 

Ah,  the  master!  I  forgot  to  speak  of  him.  He  was 
their  servant  just  then,  and  stood  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance behind  the  table,  bottle  in  hand,  ready  to  fill 
their  glasses  whenever  called,  or  gently  to  remind  the 
guests  that  to  lick  one's  plate  is  not  looked  upon  as 
good  table  manners.  Meantime  the  pretty  waitress 
skipped  about,  bringing  this  thing  and  that  as  the  mas- 
ter ordered,  often  sinking  into  a  little  chair  near  by 
for  rest  and  solemn  meditation.  The  dear  thing  was 
easily  "  flustered,"  and  the  manners  of  the  admiral 
sometimes  so  confused  her  that  she  seemed  almost 
ready  to  faint.  At  one  time,  when  the  master  put  a 
pair  of  lighted  candles  in  her  hands,  bidding  her  hold 
them  very  carefully,  she  sprang  up,  ran  from  the  stage 
with  them,  holding  them  both  upside  down,  still  blazing 
and  spattering.  Now  and  then  the  temptation  to  get  a 
bit  from  the  table  grew  so  strong  that  she  would  watch 
her  chance  to  take  a  sly  grab  when  the  guests  were 
chattering  together.  Whenever  she  succeeded  in  this 
hundreds  of  spectators  would  applaud  heartily.  The 
children  thought  it  rather  improper  for  grown  persons 
to  encourage  theft  in  that  way,  but  we  couldn't  help 
feeling  sympathy  for  the  pretty  waitress,  notwithstand- 
ing good  morals. 


THE  MONKEY  RACE.  ,^~ 

Monkeys  are  very  vivacious  and  amusing,  but  they 
are  often  bad;  tearing  up  clothing,  breaking  bottles 
and  cutting  various  capers  is  a  monkey's  delight.  They 
will  stand  and  mimic  as  long  as  they  have  anything  to 
mimic ;  they  are  also  inveterate  imitators.  A  lady  had 
one,  whom  she  found  dressed  up  in  her  clothes  and 
admiring  himself  before  the  glass ;  he  also  had  her 
ribbons  and  things  scattered  over  the  floor  in  a  very 
confused  manner ;  that  is,  in  a  manner  peculiar  to  a 
vivacious  little  monkey.  They  also  are  very  sensible  ; 
we  will  give  the  case  of  some  ring-tailed  monkeys  bridg- 
ing a  stream.  Sooner  than  go  into  water  a  monkey 
will  put  his  head  into  the  fire.  When  they  cannot  leap 
a  stream  they  will  bridge  it.  My  readers  will  perhaps 
wonder  how  a  monkey  can  bridge  a  stream,  but  they 
will  soon  see.  An  eye-witness  of  the  following,  says : 
One,  an  aid-de-camp,  or  chief  pioneer,  perhaps,  ran  out 
upon  a  projecting  rock ;  and  after  looking  across  the 
stream,  as  if  calculating  the  distance,  scampered  back 
and  appeared  to  communicate  with  the  leader.  This 
produced  a  movement  in  the  troop.  Commands  were 
issued  and  fatigue  parties  were  detailed  and  marched 
to  the  front.  Meanwhile  several,  engineers  no  doubt, 
ran  along  the  bank,  examining  the  trees  on  both  sides 
of  the  arroyo.  At  length  they  all  collected  around  a 
tall  cottonwood  that  grew  over  a  narrow  part  of  the 
stream,  and  twenty  or  thirty  of  them  scampered  up  its 
trunk.  On  reaching  a  high  point,  the  foremost  ran  out 
upon  a  limb,  and  taking  several  turns  of  his  tail  around 
it,  he  slipped  down  and  hung  his  head  downward.  The 
next  on  the  limb,  also  a  stout  one,  climbed  down  the 
body  of  the  first,  and  whipping  his  tail  tightly  around 
the  neck  and  forearm  of  the  latter,  dropped  off  in  his 
turn,  and  hung  head  down.  The  third  repeated  the 


j-g  THE  MONKET  RACE. 

manoeuver  upon  the  second,  and  the  fourth  upon  the 
third,  and  so  on  until  the  last  upon  the  string  rested 
his  forepaws  on  the  ground.  The  living  chain  now  com- 
menced swinging  backward  and  forward,  like  the  pen- 
dulum of  a  clock.  The  motion  was  slight  at  first,  but 
gradually  increased,  the  lowermost  monkey  striking  his 
hands  violently  on  the  earth  as  he  passed  the  tangent 
of  the  oscillating  curve.  Several  others  upon  the  limbs 
above  aided  the  movement.  This  continued  until  the 
monkey  at  the  end  of  the  chain  was  thrown  among  the 
branches  of  a  tree  on  the  opposite  bank ,  here,  after 
two  or  three  vibrations,  he  clutched  a  limb  and  held 
fast.  This  movement  was  adroitly  executed  just  at 
the  culminating  point  of  the  oscillation,  in  order  to 
save  the  intermediate  links  from  the  violence  of  a  too 
sudden  jerk !  The  chain  was  now  fast  at  both  ends, 
forming  a  complete  suspension  bridge,  over  which  the 
whole  troop  to  the  number  of  four  or  five  hundred 
passed  with  the  rapidity  of  thought.  It  was  a  very 
comical  sight  to  witness  the  quizzical  expression  of 
countenances  along  that  living  chain  !  The  troop  was 
now  on  the  other  side,  but  how  were  the  animals  form- 
ing the  bridge  to  get  themselves  over  ?  Manifestly,  by 
number  one  letting  go  his  tail.  But  then  the  point 
d'appui  on  the  other  side  was  much  lower  down,  and 
number  one,  with  half  a  dozen  of  his  neighbors,  would 
be  dashed  against  the  opposite  bank  or  soused  into  the 
water.  Here  was  a  problem,  but  it  was  soon  solved. 
A  monkey  attached  his  tail  to  the  lowest  on  the  bridge, 
another  girded  himself  in  a  similar  manner,  and  another, 
and  so  on  till  a  dozen  more  were  added  to  the  string ! 
These  last  were  all  powerful  fellows ;  and  running  up 
to  a  high  limb,  they  lifted  the  bridge  to  a  position 
almost  horizontal.  Then  a  scream  from  the  last  warned 


THE  MONKET  RACE.  j  -g 

the  tail-end  that  all  was  ready,  and  the  next  moment 
the  whole  chain  was  swung  over  and  landed  safely  on 
the  opposite  bank.  The  whole  troop  then  scampered 
off  and  disappeared. 

There  are  very  many  species  of  monkey,  some  so 
much  like  man  that  were  it  not  for  his  coating  of  hair 
the  casual  observer  could  hardly  distinguish  the  monkey 
from  a  man.  Nearly  every  species  is  found  in  South 
America  and  the  West  Indies  ;  in  South  America  there 
are  preaching  monkeys,  weeping  monkeys  and  howling 
monkeys,  and  many  other  kinds  too  numerous  by  far 
to  be  mentioned  here.  There  are  many  kinds  also  in 
the  East  Indies  and  Africa;  neither  is  India  wanting  in 
monkeys.  I  will  give  an  ancedote  of  some  monkeys  in 
India.  A  gentleman  who  was  spending  a  short  time 
with  a  friend  in  India,  had  been  out  shooting,  and  re- 
turning had  reached  within  a  mile  or  two  of  the  bunga- 
low, when,  passing  by  a  pleasant  river,  he  thought  a 
bath  would  be  a  most  renovating  luxury ;  he  sent  home 
his  servants  with  an  intimation  that  he  would  shortly 
follow.  So  stripping,  and  placing  his  clothes  very  care- 
fully on  a  stone,  he  began  to  luxuriate  in  the  water.  He 
wras  a  capital  swimmer,  and  had  swam  to  some  distance, 
when  to  his  horror  and  dismay,  on  looking  to  the  place 
where  he  had  left  his  habiliments,  he  perceived  a  dozen 
monkeys  overhauling  his  entire  wardrobe.  One  was 
putting 'his  legs  through  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt,  another 
was  cramming  its  head  into  his  trowsers,  a  third  was 
trying  to  find  whether  any  treasures  were  concealed  in 
his  boots,  while  the  hat  was  found  a  source  of  wonder- 
ment and  amusement  to  some  two  or  three  others  who 
were  endeavoring  to  unravel  its  mystery  by  ripping  the 
lining  and  taking  a  few  bites  out  of  the  brim.  As  soon 
as  he  had  regained  his  mental  equilibrium  (for  the  thing 


!60  THE  MONKET  RACE. 

was  so  ridiculous  that  it  made  him  laugh  heartily),  he 
made  with  all  haste  toward  the  shore;  but  judge  of  his 
perplexity  when  he  saw  these  mischievous  creatures 
each  catch  up  what  he  could  lay  hold  of  and  rattle  off 
at  full  speed  into  the  jungle.  All  he  heard  was  a  great 
chattering  as  they,  one  by  one,  disappeared,  the  last  one 
lugging  off  his  shirt,  which,  being  rather  awkward  to 
carry,  was  continually  tripping  it  up  by  getting  between 
its  legs.  And  here  he  staid  till  the  inmates  of  the  bun- 
galow, beginning  to  suspect  some  accident,  came  out 
in  search  and  found  the  gentleman  sitting  in  the  water 
up  to  his  neck,  in  a  frame  of  body  and  mind  which  we 
may  conceive  to  be  more  easily  imagined  than  described. 

A  certain  family  once  had  a  common  monkey  for  a 
pet.  On  one  occasion  the  footman  had  been  shaving 
himself — the  monkey  watching  him  during  the  process — 
when  he  carelessly  left  his  apparatus  within  reach  of  the 
creature.  As  soon  as  the  man  was  gone  out  of  the 
the  room,  to  try  his  imitatorial  powers  the  monkey  got 
the  razor  and  began  to  scrape  away  at  his  throat,  as  he 
had  seen  the  footman  do,  when,  alas !  not  understand- 
ing the  nature  of  the  instrument  he  was  using,  the  ani- 
mal cut  its  own  throat,  and  before  it  was  discovered 
bled  to  death. 

Monkeys  are  very  sagacious,  and  they  often  under- 
take robberies  with  surprising  skill  and  regularity. 
Their  robberies  seem  to  be  the  result  of  well-concerted 
plans.  If  about  to  rob  an  orchard  or  a  vineyard,  they 
set  to  work  in  a  body.  A  part  enter  the  inclosure 
while  one  is  set  to  watch.  The  rest  stand  without  the 
inclosure  and  form  a  line  reaching  all  the  way  from 
their  companions  within  to  their  rendezvous  without, 
which  is  generally  some  craggy  mountain.  Everything 
thus  disposed,  the  plunderers  within  throw  the  fruit  to 


THE  MONKEY  RACE. 


161 


those  that  are  without  as  fast  as  they  can  gather  it,  or 
if  the  wall  or  fence  be  high,  to  those  that  sit  on  top, 
and  these  hand  the  plunder  to  those  next  them  on  the 
other  side.  Thus  the  fruit  is  pitched  from  one  to  another 
all  along  the  line,  till  it  is  securely  deposited  at  head- 
quarters. During  the  proceedings  they  maintain  the 
most  profound  silence;  their  sentinel  continues  on  the 
watch  extremely  anxious  and  attentive.  But  if  he  per- 
ceives any  one  coming  he  instantly  sets  up  a  loud  cry, 
and  at  this  signal  the  whole  company  scamper  off.  Nor 
yet  are  they  at  any  time  willing  to  leave  the  place 
empty-handed  ;  for,  if  they  be  plundering  a  bed  of  melons, 
for  instance,  they  go  off  with  one  in  the  mouth,  one  in 
the  hand,  and  one  under  the  arm.  If  the  pursuit  is 
hot,  they  will  drop  first  that  from  under  the  arm,  and  then 
that  from  the  hand ;  and  if  it  be  continued,  they  at 
last  let  fall  that  which  they  had  hitherto  kept  in  the 
mouth.  A  tribe  of  monkeys  called  mottled  baboons 
mostly  rob  in  this  way ;  they  appear  to  be  under  a  sort 
of  natural  discipline. 

Monkeys  watch  over  their  young  with  great  as- 
siduity, and  appear  to  educate  and  train  them  upon  a 
general  plan.  Their  parents  procure  for  them  every 
possible  comfort,  and  they  preserve  among  them  a  due 
share  of  discipline,  and  seem  even  to  hold  them  in  sub- 
jection ;  they  appear  to  watch  their  antics  with  great 
delight.  Much  has  been  said  and  written  to  show  that 
the  monkey  is  simply  a  lower  order  than  man,  and  that 
it  is  capable  of  developing  into  his  nature.  But  this  can 
never  be.  Like  other  animals,  they  rise  to  the  highest 
point  they  are  created  to  reach,  but  cannot  transcend  it ; 
and  this  point  is  entirely  outside  the  domain  of  reason 
and  the  intellectual  and  moral  faculties  that  are  the  es- 
sential and  distinguishing  marks  of  manhood. 


COMB  ATI  VENESS   OF  BIRDS. 


COMBATIVENESS   OF    BIRDS. 

:Y  a  fiction  of  the  poets,  birds  all  sing  praise,  if 
they  sing  at  all,  to  the  great  Creator.  Of 
course,  this  sounds  well,  and  may  have  some 
moral  foundation ;  but  I  can  come  as  near  proving 
that  a  catbird  curses  and  swears,  and  flings  out 
all  sorts  of  abusive  epithets  at  its  enemies,  when 
angry,  as  any  one  can  come  to  establish  the  song- 
praise  theory.  How  these  little  fellows  can  fret,  and 
scold,  and  hiss,  and  imprecate  —  yes,  imprecate!  Let 
a  sparrow-hawk,  or  screech-owl,  or  butcher-bird,  go  near 
one's  nest,  and  if  you  observe  closely,*  your  imagination 
must  be  very  torpid,  indeed,  if  you  cannot  hear  "  Sacre 
bleu  ! "  and  all  that,  scattered  around  pretty  freely.  I 
have  seen  one  fairly  dance  in  ecstacy  of  anger,  when 
nothing  but  a  poor  little  brown  lizard  came  near  it.  A 
pair  of  catbirds  had  their  nest  and  young  in  a  currant- 
hedge  of  the  garden  belonging  to  a  farm-house  where  I 
was  lodging  one  spring,  and  I  used  to  amuse  myself  by 
exciting  the  anger  of  the  mother-bird.  To  do  this  I 
had  only  to  hang  a  bit  of  red  cloth  near  the  nest  in  her 
absence,  and  await  the  result.  No  sooner  would  she 
return  than  such  a  twittering  and  squeaking  and  scold- 
ing would  begin  as  only  a  catbird  could  generate,  and 
when  she  found  there  was  no  fight  in  the  rag,  she  would 
eye  me  sitting  at  my  window,  and  mew  triumphantly 
as  if  she  well  knew  who  it  was  who  had  thus  troubled 
her  equanimity.  A  war  of  words  —  or  rather  a  war  of 
notes  —  is  a  thing  of  frequent  occurrence  between  the 
catbird  and  a  common  brown  thrush.  Early  in  the 
morning  in  the  month  of  May  they  may  be  heard 
screaming  their  respective  medleys  at  the  extremity 


COMBATIVENESS   OF  BIRDS.  j6 

of  their  voices  from  neighboring  trees,  each  songster 
maliciously  bent  on  drowning  the  other's  voice.  The 
common  barnyard  cock  is  given  to  a  like  ambition  in 
the  matter  of  crowing  down  all  competitors.  Speaking 
of  the  brown  thrush  reminds  me  that  I  ought  to  record 
right  here  a  very  singular  combat,  witnessed  by  myself 
and  brother,  between  one  of  these  gay  singers  and  a 
blue-jay,  and  in  which  the  jay  was  finally  discomfited 
and  beaten. 

We  were  lying  in  the  shade  of  a  wide-spreading 
wild  plum  tree,  on  the  edge  of  a  little  glade.  Near  us 
was  a  clump  of  sugar-haw  bushes,  in  one  of  which  we 
had  discovered  a  brown  thrush's  nest.  The  bird  was 
incubating.  A  blue-jay  flitting  about  on  mischief  intent, 
as,  in  fact,  a  blue-jay  always  is,  happened  to  spy  her, 
and  immediately  attacked  her,  driving  her  for  refuge 
into  the  thick,  thorny  foliage  above  the  nest.  This 
seemed  an  easy  turn  for  the  jay,  which  at  once  pre- 
pared to  have  a  feast  of  the  eggs.  But  no  sooner  had 
it  perched  on  the  rim  of  the  nest  than  the  thrush,  with 
a  savage  squall,  plunged  down  from  its  hiding  place 
and  struck  it  a  heavy  blow  on  the  back.  The  jay  re- 
treated in  disorder,  but  warily  returned  again  when  all 
seemed  still.  With  infinite  caution  in  every  movement 
it  hopped  from  twig  to  twig,  turning  its  crested  head 
this  way  and  that,  till  it  reached  the  nest.  Again,  with 
a  shrill  scream,  the  thrush  pounced  from  its  hiding 
place,  using  its  long,  sharp  beak  for  a  sword  to  stab 
the  jay's  exposed  and  defenseless  back.  Again  and 
again  the  would-be  robber  fled  and  returned,  each 
time  to  get  rougher  usage,  and  finally,  as  if  utterly 
outdone,  with  rapidly  repeated  cries  of  "  De-jay  !  de-jay ! 
de-jay!"  it  flitted  away  into  the  depths  of  the  woods, 
to  come  no  more. 


164 


GETSERS    OF    WYOMING. 


GEYSERS   OF  WYOMING. 


I/EOPLE  who  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  view- 
ing the  grandeur  of  the  Yellowstone  river,  or 
Sierra  Nevada  and  Coast  Range  mountains,  can 
have  but  a  slight  idea  of  the  magnificence  of  Amer- 
ican scenery.  Among  the  wild  mountain  cuts, 

colossal  rocks  are  piled  on  rocks,  and  left  with  per- 
pendicular sides  and  fronts  —  ever  and  anon  cleft  by 
that  terrible  hand  which  molds  the  earth.  To  look 
up  appals,  for  naught  meets  the  gaze  but  the  cold 
walls  draped  with  festoons  of  wild  vines  and  drooping 
tufts  of  verdure ;  to  look  down,  the  dashing  milk-white 
river  meets  the  eye,  or  perhaps  the  sea-like  verdure 
which,  treacherously  seeming  nearer,  relieves  the  mind 
from  the  sense  of  danger  ;  but  wherever  you  are,  at 
the  base  of  the  yawning  gulf,  at  the  giddy  peak,  or 
upon  the  cragged  side,  where  man  or  beast  have  found 
and  formed  a  narrow  treacherous  path,  the  sublimity 
silences  the  beholder  into  the  most  profound  meditation. 

Within  the  limit  of  our  great  National  Park  there 
are  wonderments  in  the  way  of  geysers,  or  boiling  and 
spouting  springs,  with  which  those  of  Europe  sink  into 
insignificance  when  brought  into  comparison  ;  indeed, 
so  stupendous  are  they  that  if  all  the  corresponding 
phenomena  of  the  whole  world  could  be  brought  into 
the  same  compass  beside  these  they  would  sink  into 
apparent  nothingness. 

These  geysers  are  said  to  be  remains  of  remarkable 
volcanic  manifestations,  which  began  probably  in  the 
third  formation  or  tertiary  period.  At  the  present  time 
earthquakes  are  not  uncommon  there,  and  often  very 
severe.  These  wonderful  springs  were  first  visited 


OLD  FAITHFUL 


T66  GE2-SEXS   Of    WYOMING. 

some  four  or  five  years  ago,  and  are  divided  into  two 
classes :  those  which  are  constantly  boiling  and  spurt- 
ing, and  those  whose  action  is  intermittent.  The  water 
varies  in  temperature  from  106°  to  198°  F. 

"  Old  Faithful,"  so  named  by  Lieut.  Doane,  stands 
on  a  mound  thirty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  surround- 
ing plain,  and  throws  a  column  of  boiling  water,  at  reg- 
ular intervals,  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  high,  each 
discharge  lasting  some  twenty  minutes. 

"  Near  the  crater,  and  as  far  as  the  irruptive  waters 
reach,"  writes  Lieutenant  Doane,  "  the  character  of  the 
deposit  is  very  peculiar.  Close  around  the  opening  are 
built  up  walls,  eight  feet  in  height,  of  spherical  nodules 
from  six  inches  to  three  feet  in  diameter.  These  stony 
spheres,  in  turil,  are  covered  with  minute  globules  of 
stalagmite,  incrusted  with  a  thin  glazing  of  silica.  The 
rock,  at  a  distance,  appears  the  color  of  ashes  of  roses, 
but  near  at  hand  shows  a  metallic  gray,  with  pink  and 
yellow  margins  of  the  utmost  delicacy.  Being  con- 
stantly wet  the  colors  are  brilliant  beyond  description. 
Sloping  gently  from  this  rim  of  the  crater  in  every 
direction,  the  rocks  are  full  of  cavities  in  successive 
terraces,  forming  little  pools,  with  margins  of  silica 
the  color  of  silver,  the  cavities  being  of  irregular 
shape,  constantly  full  of  hot  water,  and  precipitating 
delicate,  coral-like  beads  of  a  bright  saffron. 

"  These  cavities  are  also  fringed  with  rock  around 
the  edges  in  meshes  as  delicate  as  the  finest  lace. 
Diminutive  yellow  columns  rise  from  their  depths, 
capped  with  small  tablets  of  rock,  and  resembling 
flowers  growing  in  the  water.  Some  of  them  are  filled 
with  oval  pebbles  of  a  brilliant  white  color,  and  others 
with  a  yellow  frost-vyork  which  builds  up  gradually  in 
solid  stalagmites.  Receding  still  farther  from  the  era- 


GETSERS    OF    WYOMING.  jfty 

ter,  the  cavities  become  gradually  larger  and  the  water 
cooler,  causing  changes  in  the  brilliant  colorings,  and 
also  in  the  formations  of  the  deposits.  These  become 
calcareous  spar,  of  a  white  or  slate  color,  and  occasion- 
ally variegated. 

"  The  water  of  the  geyser  is  colorless,  tasteless,  and 
without  odor.  The  deposits  are  apparently  as  delicate 
as  the  down  on  the  butterfly's  wing,  both  in  texture 
and  coloring,  yet  are  firm  and  solid  beneath  the  tread. 
Those  who  have  seen  the  stage  representations  of 
'Aladdin's  Cave,'  and  the  '  Home  of  the  Dragon  Fly,' 
as  produced  in  a  first-class  theater,  can  form  an  idea  of 
the  wonderful  coloring,  but  not  of  the  intricate  frost- 
work, of  this  fairy-like  yet  solid  mound  of  rock,  grow- 
ing up  amid  clouds  of  steam  and  showers  of  boiling 
water.  One  instinctively  touches  the  hot  ledges  with 
his  hands,  and  sounds  with  a  stick  the  depths  of  the 
cavities  in  the  slope  in  utter  doubt  in  the  evidence  of 
his  own  eyes.  The  beauty  of  the  scene  takes  away 
one's  breath.  It  is  overpowering,  transcending  the 
visions  of  the  Moslem's  Paradise." 

As  another  party  of  explorers  were  leaving  the 
basin,  ascending  the  river,  this  grand  old  geyser,  which 
stands  sentinel  at  the  head  of  the  valley,  gave  them  a 
magnificent  parting  display.  "  With  little  or  no  prelim- 
inary warning,"  writes  Dr.  Hayden,  "it  shot  up  a  col- 
umn of  water  about  six  feet  in  diameter  to  the  height 
of  100  to  150  feet,  and  by  a  succession  of  impulses 
seemed  to  hold  it  up  steadily  for  the  space  of  fifteen 
minutes,  the  great  mass  of  water  falling  directly  back 
into  the  basin,  and  flowing  over  the  edges  and  down 
the  sides  in  large  streams.  When  the  action  ceases 
the  water  recedes  beyond  sight,  and  nothing  is  heard 
but  the  occasional  escape  of  steam  until  another  exhi- 


1 68  GETSERS   OF   WYOMING. 

bition  occurs.  This  is  one  of  the  most  accommodating 
geysers  in  the  basin,  and  during  our  stay  played  once 
an  hour  quite  regularly." 

Just  across  the  river,  and  close  to  the  margin,  stands 
a  silicious  cone,  very  symmetrical,  slightly  corrugated 
on  its  exterior  surface,  three  feet  in  height,  and  five  in 
diameter  at  its  base.  Its  orifice  is  oval,  with  scalloped 
edges,  and  two  feet  by  three  in  diameter.  Of  this 
unpretending  cone  Mr.  Langford  writes : 

"  Not  one  of  our  company  supposed  that  it  was  a 
geyser ;  and  among  so  many  wonders  it  had  almost 
escaped  notice.  While  we  were  at  breakfast  upon  the 
morning  of  our  departure,  a  column  of  water,  entirely 
filling  the  crater,  shot  from  it,  which,  by  accurate  tri- 
angular measurement,  we  found  to  be  219  feet  in  height. 
The  stream  did  not  deflect  more  than  four  or  five 
degrees  from  a  vertical  line,  and  the  eruption  lasted 
eighteen  minutes." 

A  hundred  yards  farther  from  the  river,  near  the 
center  of  the  large  group  of  spouting  and  boiling  gey- 
sers, is  a  large  oval  aperture  with  scalloped  edges,  the 
diameters  of  which  were  eighteen  and  twenty-five  feet. 

"No  water  could  be  discovered,"  writes  Mr.  Lang- 
ford,  on  his  first  approach  to  the  spring,  "  but  we  could 
distinctly  hear  it  gurgling  and  boiling  at  a  great  dis- 
tance below.  Suddenly  it  began  to  rise,  boiling  and 
spluttering,  and  sending  out  huge  masses  of  steam, 
causing  a  general  stampede  of  our  company,  driving 
us  some  distance  from  our  point  of  observation.  When 
within  about  forty  feet  of  the  surface  it  became  station- 
ary, and  we  returned  to  look  down  upon  it.  It  was 
foaming  and  surging  at  a  terrible  rate,  occasionally 
emitting  small  jets  of  hot  water  nearly  to  the  mouth 
of  the  orifice.  All  at  once  it  seemed  seized  with  a 


GETSEfiS   OF    WYOMING.  ,  6g 

fearful  spasm,  and  rose  with  incredible  rapidity,  hardly 
affording  us  time  to  flee  to  a  safe  distance,  when  it 
burst  from  the  orifice  with  terrific  momentum,  rising 
in  a  column  the  full  size  of  this  immense  aperture  to 
the  height  of  sixty  feet ;  and  through  and  out  of  the 
apex  of  this  vast  aqueous  mass,  five  or  six  lesser  jets 
or  round  columns  of  water,  varying  in  size  from  six  to 
fifteen  inches  in  diameter,  were  projected  to  the  mar- 
velous height  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet. 

"  These  lesser  jets,  so  much  higher  than  the  main 
column,  and  shooting  through  it,  doubtless  proceed 
from  auxiliary  pipes  leading  into  the  principal  orifice 
near  the  bottom,  where  the  explosive  force  is  greater. 

"  This  grand  eruption  continued  for  twenty  minutes, 
and  was  the  most  magnificent  sight  we  ever  witnessed. 
We  were  standing  on  the  side  of  the  geyser  nearest 
the  sun,  the  gleams  of  which  filled  the  sparkling  column 
of  water  and  spray  with  myriads  of  rainbows,  whose 
arches  were  constantly  changing —  dipping  and  flutter- 
ing hither  and  thither,  and  disappearing  only  to  be 
succeeded  by  others,  again  and  again,  amid  the  aqueous 
column,  while  the  minute  globules,  into  which  the  spent 
jets  were  diffused,  when  falling,  sparkled  like  a  shower 
of  diamonds,  and  around  every  shadow  which  the  denser 
clouds  of  vapor,  interrupting  the  sun's  rays,  cast  upon 
the  column,  could  be  seen  a  luminous  circle  radiant 
with  all  the  colors  of  the  prism,  and  resembling  the 
halo  of  glory  represented  in  paintings  as  encircling 
the  head  of  divinity.  All  that  we  had  previously 
witnessed  seemed  tame  in  comparison  with  the  perfect 
grandeur  and  beauty  of  this  display.  Two  of  these 
wonderful  eruptions  occurred  during  the  twenty-two 
hours  we  remained  in  the  valley.  This  geyser  we 
named  '  The  Giantess.'  " 


I  70  DESCRIPTION  OF  AN  EARTHQUAKE. 


DESCRIPTION  OF  AN  EARTHQUAKE. 

NOTABLY  dreadful  and  destructive  earthquake 
was  that  of  1868,  in  South  America,  which  shook 
to  its  base  all  the  adjacent  country.  It  was  first 
noted  in  Africa,  about  five  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
its  premonitory  symptoms  being  immense  clouds 
of  dust,  which  were  seen  slowly  advancing  across  the 
plain  in  dusky  columns  at  a  distance  of  about  ten  miles. 
Nearer  and  nearer  they  came ;  and  in  the  awful 
pause  of  dread  expectancy  that  ensued,  the  distant 
snowy  peaks  of  the  Cordilleras  were  observed  to  nod 
and  reel,  as  if  executing  some  horribly  suggestive 
cyclopean  dance.  Gradually  this  impulse  extended 
itself  to  the  mountains  nearer  to  the  town,  till  the 
huge  morro  or  headland,  a  little  to  the  left  of  it,  began 
to  rock  violently  to  and  fro,  heaving  with  sickening 
lurches,  as  if  about  to  cast  itself  loose  into  space,  and 
always  bringing  to  again  like  a  hard  bestead  ship  in  a 
driving  tempest.  As  it  worked  backward  and  forward, 
huge  fragments  of  stone  detached  themselves  from  its 
cave-worn  surface,  and  fell  with  deafening  crash  into 
the  surf  below ;  while  under  and  above  all,  like  a  sub- 
dued monotone  of  horror,  was  a  prolonged,  incessant 
rumble,  now  like  the  roll  of  distant  thunder,  but  ever 
and  anon  at  irregular  intervals  swelling  into  a  deafen- 
ing crash,  like  the  discharge  of  a  whole  park  of  artillery. 
As  far  as  could  be  seen,  the  usually  solid  earth  was 
agitated  by  a  slow  wave-like  motion,  which  became  first 
tremulous,  and  then  unspeakably  violent,  throwing  half 
of  the  houses  into  heaps  of  ruins,  and  yawning  into  wide 
chasm-like  fissures,  from  which  mephitic  sulphurous 
vapors  issued.  Shrieks  and  groans  of  anguish  filled 


SPORTING  IN   THE   TROPICS.  ijl 

the  air,  a  mournful  interlude  shrilly  resounding  at  inter- 
vals above  all  the  subterranean  thunder,  as  the  terrified 
crowd  rushed  to  the  mole,  to  seek  refuge  aboard  the 
vessels  in  the  harbor.  Scarcely  had  they  reached  this 
hoped-for  haven  of  safety,  when  the  sea,  treacherous  as 
the  heaving  land,  glided  softly  back,  and  then  rushing 
forward  with  a  terrific  roar,  submerged  the  mole  with 
its  panting,  terror-stricken  occupants,  and  poured  on  in 
a  foaming  flood  over  the  prostrate  town,  where  it  com- 
pleted the  havoc  the  earthquake  had  begun.  It  then 
rushed  back  more  suddenly  than  it  had  advanced,  the 
whole  fearful  deluge  occupying  only  about  five  minutes. 
Again  and  again  the  earth  quivered  and  shook,  as  if 
about  to  drop  into  some  unfathomable  abyss  below, 
and  again  the  sea  dashed  forward  as  if  in  frantic  fury, 
and  then  as  suddenly  recoiled,  the  last  time  showing  a 
perpendicular  wall  of  water  forty-five  feet  high,  capped 
by  an  angry  crest  of  foam.  This  tremendous  wave 
swept  miles  inshore,  where  it  stranded  the  largest  ships 
then  lying  in  the  harbor,  one  of  them  a  United  States 
man-of-war. 


SPORTING  IN  THE  TROPICS. 

•ROCKETTE  declares  that  nowhere  can  such 
a  paradise  for  the  sportsman  be  found  as  in 
Central  South  Africa ;  nowhere  can  he  find 
in  such  profusion  the  largest  game  for  which  the 
hunter  seeks.  Hunting  land  animals,  of  which 
Cummings  and  a  score  of  others  have  told  so 
much,  is  perhaps  no  more  exciting  than  sports  enjoyed 
upon  lakes  and  rivers.  The  writer  mentioned  has 


IJ2  SPORTING  IN   THE    TROPICS. 

given  several  stirring  narratives  of  his  capturing  the 
hippopotamus,  and  the  following,  except  the  wanton 
cruelty  practiced,  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  his 
water  chases : 

"Just  as  the  sun  went  down  I  entered  a  dense  reed- 
cover  and  came  upon  the  fresh  lairs  of  four  hippopotami. 
They  had  been  lying  sleeping  on  the  margin  of  the 
river,  and  as  they  heard  me  come  crackling  through  the 
reeds  had  plunged  into  the  deep  water.  I  at  once 
ascertained  that  they  were  newly  started,  for  the  froth 
and  bubbles  were  still  on  the  spot  where  they  had 
plunged  in.  Next  moment  I  heard  them  blowing  a 
little  way  down  the  river.  I  then  headed  them,  and 
with  considerable  difficulty,  owing  to  the  cover  of  the 
reeds,  I  at  length  came  right  down  above  where  they 
were  standing.  It  was  a  broad  part  of  the  river,  with  a 
sandy  bottom,  and  the  water  came  half  way  up  their 
sides.  There  were  four  of  them  —  three  cows  and  an 
old  bull.  They  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  and 
though  alarmed,  did  not  appear  to  know  the  extent  of 
the  impending  danger. 

"  I  took  the  sea-cow  next  to  me,  and  with  the  first 
ball  gave  her  a  mortal  wound,  knocking  loose  a  great 
plate  on  the  top  of  her  skull.  She  at  once  commenced 
plunging  round  and  round,  and  then  occasionally  re- 
mained sitting  for  a  few  moments  on  the  same  spot. 
On  hearing  the  report  of  my  rifle  two  of  the  others  took 
up  stream  and  the  fourth  dashed  down  the  river.  They 
trotted  along,  like  oxen,  at  a  smart  pace  as  long  as  the 
water  was  shallow.  I  was  now  in  a  state  of  very  great 
anxiety  about  my  wounded  sea-cow,  for  I  feared  that 
she  would  get  down  into  deep  water  and  be  lost ;  her 
struggles  were  only  carrying  her  farther  down  the 
stream,  and  the  water  was  becoming  deeper.  To  settle 


SPORTING  IN  THE  TROPICS. 


174  SPORTING  IN   THE    TROPICS. 

the  matter  I  accordingly  fired  a  second  shot  from  the 
bank,  which,  entering  the  roof  of  the  skull,  passed  out 
through  her  eye.  She  then  kept  continually  splashing 
round  and  round  in  a  circle  in  the  middle  of  the  river. 
I  had  great  fear  of  crocodiles,  and  I  did  not  know  that 
the  sea-cow  might  not  attack  me.  My  anxiety  to  secure 
her,  however,  overcame  all  hesitation  ;  so  divesting  my- 
self of  my  leathers,  and  armed  with  a  sharp  knife,  I 
darted  into  the  water,  which  at  first  took  me  up  to  my 
armpits,  but  in  the  middle  became  shallower. 

"As  I  approached  behemoth  her  eye  looked  very 
wicked.  I  halted  for  a  moment,  ready  to  dive  under 
the  water  if  she  attacked  me ;  but  she  was  stunned  and 
did  not  know  what  she  was  doing,  so  running  in  upon 
her,  and  seizing  her  short  tail,  I  attempted  to  in- 
cline her  course  to  land.  It  was  extraordinary  what 
strength  she  still  possessed.  I  could  not  guide  her  the 
slightest,  and  she  continued  to  splash  and  blow,  and 
made  her  circular  course,  carrying  me  with  her  as 
though  I  had  been  a  fly  on  her  tail. 

"Finding  that  her  tail  gave  me  but  a  poor  hold,  as 
the  only  means  of  securing  my  prey  I  took  out  my 
knife,  and  cutting  two  deep  parallel  incisions  through 
the  skin  on  her  rump,  and  lifting  this  skin  from  the  flesh 
so  that  I  could  get  in  my  two  hands,  I  made  use  of  this 
as  a  handle,  and  after  some  desperate  hard  work,  some- 
times pushing  and  sometimes  pulling  —  the  sea-cow 
still  continuing  her  circular  course  all  the  time,  and  I 
holding  on  like  grim  death  —  eventually  I  succeeded  in 
bringing  her  to  the  bank.  Here  the  bushman  quickly 
brought  a  stout  buffalo  rein  from  my  horse's  back,  which 
I  passed  through  the  opening  in  the  skin,  and  moored 
behemoth  to  a  tree.  Then  I  took  my  rifle  and  sent  a 
ball  through  the  center  of  her  head,  and  she  was  num- 
bered with  the  dead." 


COFFEE   CULTURE  IN  BRAZIL. 


'75 


Anderson  says  that  animal  life  around  "watering 
places,"  as  the  lakes  are  called,  is  wonderful,  rich  and 
varied.  The  elephant,  hippopotamus,  buffalo  and 
giraffe  have  their  settlements  there,  with  numerous 
varieties  of  the  antelope,  while  the  water  swarms  with 
crocodiles,  some  of  which  are  of  enormous  size. 

As  he  approached  near  the  Zambesi  river,  says 
Livingston's  records,  the  country  became  covered  with 
broad-leaved  bushes,  pretty  thickly  planted,  and  he  had 
several  times  to  shout  to  elephants  to  get  them  out  of 
the  way.  At  an  open  space  a  herd  of  buffaloes  came  up 
to  look  at  him  and  his  followers,  and  one  had  to  be  shot 
before  the  others  would  leave  them. 

The  same  explorer  tells  of  the  multitudes  of  aquatic 
birds  that  gather  at  that  wonderful  river.  While  in  his 
canoe  one  day  with  his  attendants  he  brought  down 
four  geese  at  two  shots.  In  his  own  words  :  "  I  never 
saw  a  river  with  so  much  animal  life  around  and  in  it, 
and  as  the  Barotse  say,  '  its  fish  and  fowls  are  always 
fat.'  " 


COFFEE    CULTURE    IN    BRAZIL. 

'GRICULTURE    in    Brazil    is   almost    a    term 
without    significance.      This    boundless    region 
of   the    globe  is  a  part  of    our  Father's   patri- 
mony,   and    yet    remains    to   be   subdued   by  his 
children.     We    talk    about    this    world    being    an 
old    world.      The   word    is    of  bad   omen.      It    is   a 
young  world.     We  are  only  beginning  to  fancy  what 


176  COFFEE   CULTURE   IN  BRAZIL. 

it  is,  and  what  its  possibilities  are,  and  what  it  may 
yet  become.  Thank  God  that  we  live  on  an  earth 
which  is  yet  in  its  infancy;  that,  so  far  as  He  is  con- 
cerned, nobody  has  been  sent  on  this  earth  to  starve, 
but  that,  so  far  as  all  external  conditions  to  sustain 
life  and  render  it  happy  are  concerned,  they  have 
been  abundantly  supplied.  It  only  remains  that  the 
internal  conditions  that  are  to  spring  from  our  own 
hearts  be  added  to  what  He  has  given  us  and  what  a 
magnificent  living  there  is  for  us  all  on  the  face  of  the 
earth!  In  addition  to  Heaven's  supply,  give  us  in- 
dustry, enterprise  and  economy,  and  the  proper  effort 
upon  the  part  of  man  himself,  and  then  what  a  farm 
is  this  for  the  children  of  men  ! 

The  prosperity  of  this  unsubjugated  country  de- 
pends almost  entirely  upon  its  coffee  crop,  which  is 
the  chief  product  of  the  land.  It  is  estimated  that 
fully  one  half  of  all  produced  in  the  world  is  grown  in 
this  empire;  two  millions  of  bags  are  annually  shipped, 
more  than  half  of  this  amount  coming  to  the  United 
States.  Each  bag  contains  one  hundred  and  sixty 
pounds,  and  is  worth,  at  Rio  Janeiro,  twenty  dollars 
per  sack  —  total  proceeds,  forty  millions  of  dollars. 

The  coffee  is  raised  chiefly  in  the  southern  part  of 
Brazil,  in  a  mountainous  belt  about  two  hundred  miles 
in  width,  and  the  land  upon  which  it  is  grown  is  a 
yellow  sandy  soil,  lying  upon  the  side  hills  where  no 
drainage  is  required,  otherwise  the  natives  would  never 
obtain  the  immense  returns. 

The  trees  are  usually  grown  from  shoots  in  nur- 
series similar  to  the  method  of  propagating  grape 
vines  in  this  country,  yet  the  berry  is  sometimes  planted 
and  made  to  produce  trees.  About  three  years  are 
required  from  the  transplanting  to  the  beginning 


COFFEE   CULTURE  IN  BRAZIL.  177 

of  bearing,  but  have  to  reach  the  age  of  five  or  six 
years  before  they  are  at  the  height  of  their  productive- 
ness. 

The  trees  are  evergreen,  and  grow  to  the  height  of 
from  ten  to  thirty  feet,  and  are  heavily  loaded  twice 
a  year  with  fruitage.  They  cease  bearing  at  the  end  of 
fifteen,  or  at  most  twenty  years,  and  are  then  aban- 
doned. The  leaves  are  some  five  inches  long,  and  of  a 
pretty  bright  green  color.  During  nearly  the  whole  of 
the  year  white  blossoms  dot  the  foliage,  giving  a  fine 
contrast,  there  being  fruitage  in  different  stages  of 
development  all  the  time,  but,  as  before  stated,  the 
regular  harvest  comes  twice  every  twelve  months.  The 
berry,  in  its  tender  state,  is  very  pleasant  to  the  taste, 
and  is  used  as  food ;  that  is,  the  pulpy  part.  When 
ripe  it  becomes  red,  and  later  a  purplish  shade.  What 
we  have  in  our  market  is  simply  the  pits.  The  berries 
grow  about  as  large  as  good-sized  cherries,  and  are 
about  as  palatable  as  wild  plums. 

The  harvest  is  made  chiefly  by  women,  who  carry 
baskets  upon  their  breasts,  and  often  a  baby  on  the 
back  at  the  same  time.  The  berries  are  put  into  carts, 
and  taken  down  into  the  valleys  below,  where  they  are 
spread  upon  cemented  or  stone  floors  and  allowed  to 
dry,  and  sometimes  artificial  heat  is  added  to  advance 
the  work.  After  drying  awhile  they  are  put  through  a 
machine  or  separator;  then  submerged  in  water  and 
dried  again  ;  then  put  through  a  huller  and  fanning 
mill.  The  coffee  is  now  spread  and  picked  over,  and 
all  the  imperfect  kernels  taken  out,  as  a  few  unripe  ones 
in  a  sack  would  spoil  the  whole.  It  takes  nearly  seven 
hundred  pounds  of  the  fruit,  as  it  comes  from  the  trees, 
to  make  one  hundred  pounds  of  the  marketable  berry. 

After  the  expiration  of  about  twenty  years,  as  before 


178  THE  PRESUMPTUOUS   MURDERER. 

stated,  the  coffee  tree  becomes  moss  covered,  similar  to 
old  peach  trees,  and  unproductive,  and  the  fields  are 
abandoned  and  new  ones  taken,  for  the  people  are  too 
lazy  to  make  any  effort  toward  renovating  the  soil  or 
subjugating  the  low  lands. 

In  addition  to  the  great  production  of  coffee,  tobacco, 
sugar  and  cotton  are  largely  grown ;  but  the  resources 
of  this  extensive  country  are  yet  undeveloped.  Nearly 
the  whole  area  of  the  empire  is  tillable,  and  yet  but 
comparatively  few  acres  are  improved,  and  none  under 
thorough  cultivation. 


THE   PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER. 

LITTLE  more  than  fifty  years  ago  a  man  by 
the  name  of  Henry  Thomson  called  at  the  house 
of  Mr.  John  Smith,  a  resident  in  a  retired  part  of 
England,  and  requested  a  night's  lodging.  This 
request  was  readily  granted,  and  the  stranger  hav- 
ing taken  some  refreshment,  retired  early  to  bed, 
requesting  that  he  might  be  awakened  at  an  early  hour 
the  following  morning. 

When  the  servant  appointed  to  call  him  entered 
the  room  for  that  purpose,  he  was  found  in  his  bed 
perfectly  dead.  On  examining  his  body  no  marks  of 
violence  appeared,  but  his  countenance  looked  ex- 
tremely natural.  The  story  of  his  death  soon  spread 
among  the  neighbors,  and  inquiries  were  made  who  he 
was,  and  by  what  means  he  came  by  his  death. 

Nothing  certain,  however,  was  known.  He  had 
arrived  on  horseback,  and  was  seen  passing  through 


THE   PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER.  I^g 

a  neighboring  village  about  an  hour  before  he  reached 
the  house  where  he  came  to  his  end.  And  then,  as  to 
the  manner  of  his  death,  so  little  could  be  discovered, 
that  the  jury  which  was  summoned  to  investigate  the 
cause  returned  a  verdict  that  he  died  "  by  a  visitation 
of  God."  When  this  was  done,  the  stranger  was  buried. 

Days  and  weeks  passed  on,  and  little  further  was 
known.  The  public  mind,  however,  was  not  at  rest. 
Suspicions  existed  that  foul  means  had  hastened  the 
stranger's  death.  Whispers  to  that  effect  were  ex- 
pressed, and  in  the  hearts  of  many  Smith  was  consid- 
ered as  the  guilty  man. 

The  former  character  of  Smith  had  not  been  good. 
He  had  lived  a  loose  and  irregular  life,  involved  him- 
self in  debt  by  his  extravagance  ;  and  at  length,  being 
suspected  of  having  obtained  money  wrongfully,  he 
suddenly  fled  from  the  town. 

More  than  ten  years,  however,  had  now  elapsed 
since  his  return,  during  which  he  had  lived  at  his 
present  residence,  apparently  in  good  circumstances, 
and  with  an  improved  character.  His  former  life, 
however,  was  now  remembered,  and  suspicion,  after 
all,  fastened  upon  him. 

At  the  expiration  of  two  months  a  gentleman  one 
day  stopped  in  the  place  for  the  purpose  of  making 
inquiry  respecting  the  stranger  who  had  been  found 
dead  in  his  bed.  He  supposed  himself  to  be  a 
brother  of  the  man.  The  horse  and  clothes  of  the 
unfortunate  man  still  remained,  and  were  immedi- 
ately known  as  having  belonged  to  his  brother.  The 
body  also,  itself  was  taken  up,  and  though  consid- 
erably changed,  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  him. 

He  now  felt  authorized  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  the 
manner  of  his  death.  He  proceeded,  therefore,  to 


l8o  THE  PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER. 

investigate  the  circumstances  as  well  as  he  was  able. 
At  length  he  made  known  to  the  magistrate  of  the 
district  the  information  he  had  collected,  and  upon 
the  strength  of  this  Smith  was  taken  to  jail  to  be 
tried  for  the  willful  murder  of  Henry  Thomson. 

The  celebrated  Lord  Mansfield  was  then  on  the 
bench.  He  charged  the  grand  jury  to  be  cautious  as 
to  finding  a  bill  against  the  prisoner.  The  evidence 
of  his  guilt,  if  guilty,  might  be  small.  At  a  future 
time  it  might  be  greater ;  more  information  might  be 
obtained.  Should  the  jury  now  find  a  bill  against 
him,  and  should  he  be  acquitted,  he  could  not  be 
molested  again,  whatever  testimony  should  rise  up 
against  him.  The  grand  jury,  however,  did  find  a 
bill,  but  it  was  by  a  majority  of  only  one. 

At  length  the  time  of  trial  arrived.  Smith  was 
brought  into  court  and  placed  at  the  bar.  A  great 
crowd  thronged  the  room,  eager  and  anxious  to  see 
the  prisoner  and  to  hear  the  trial.  He  himself  ap- 
peared firm  and  collected.  Nothing  in  his  manner  or 
appearance  indicated  guilt ;  and  when  the  question 
was  put  to  him  by  the  clerk,  "Are  you  guilty,  or  not 
guilty?"  he  answered  with  an  unfaltering  tongue,  and 
with  a  countenance  perfectly  unchanged,  "  Not  guilty." 

The  counsel  for  the  prosecution  now  opened  the 
case.  But  it  was  apparent  that  he  had  little  expecta- 
tion of  being  able  to  prove  the  prisoner  guilty.  He 
stated  to  the  jury  that  the  case  was  involved  in  great 
mystery.  The  prisoner  was  a  man  of  respectability 
and  of  property.  The  deceased  was  supposed  to  have 
had  about  him  gold  and  jewels  to  a  large  amount ;  but 
the  prisoner  was  not  so  much  in  want  of  funds  as  to 
be  under  a  strong  temptation  to  commit  murder.  And, 
besides,  if  the  prisoner  had  obtained  the  property  he 


THE  PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER.  jgj 

had  effectually  concealed  it.  Not  a  trace  of  it  could 
be  found. 

Why,  then,  was  the  prisoner  suspected  ?  He  would 
state  the  grounds  of  suspicion.  The  deceased,  Henry 
Thomson,  was  a  jeweler,  residing  in  London,  and  a 
man  of  wealth.  He  had  left  London  for  the  purpose 
of  meeting  a  trader  at  Hull,  of  whom  he  expected  to 
make  a  large  purchase.  That  trader  he  did  meet ;  and 
after  the  departure  of  the  latter,  Mr.  Thomson  was 
known  to  have  had  in  his  possession  jewels  and  gold 
to  a  large  amount. 

With  these  in  his  possession  he  left  Hull  on  his 
return  to  London.  It  was  not  known  that  he  stopped 
until  he  reached  Smith's,  and  the  next  morning  was 
discovered  dead  in  his  bed.  He  died,  then,  in  Smith's 
house,  and  if  it  could  be  shown  that  he  came  to  his 
death  in  an  unnatural  way,  it  would  increase  the  sus- 
picion that  the  prisoner  was  in  seme  way  connected 
with  the  murder. 

Now,  then,  continued  the  counsel,  it  will  be  proved 
beyond  the  possibility  of  a  doubt  that  the  deceased 
died  by  poison.  But  what  was  that  poison  ?  It  was 
a  recent  discovery  of  some  German  chemists,  said  to 
be  produced  from  distilling  the  seed  of  the  wild  cherry 
tree.  It  was  a  poison  more  powerful  than  any  other 
known,  and  deprived  of  life  so  immediately,  as  to  leave 
no  marks  of  suffering,  and  no  contortions  of  the  feat- 
ures. 

But,  then,  the  question  was,  by  whom  was  it  ad- 
ministered ?  One  circumstance,  a  small  one  indeed, 
and  yet  upon  it  might  hang  a  horrid  tale,  was  that 
the  stopper  of  a  small  bottle  of  a  very  singular  descrip- 
tion had  been  found  in  the  prisoner's  house.  That 
stopper  had  been  examined,  and  said  by  medical  men 


1 82  THE  PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER. 

to  have  belonged  to  a  German  vial  containing  the,  kind 
of  poison  which  he  had  described.  But,  then,  was  that 
poison  administered  by  Smith,  or  at  his  instigation  ? 
Who  were  the  prisoner's  family?  It  consisted  only 
of  himself,  a  housekeeper,  and  one  man-servant.  The 
man-servant  slept  in  an  out-house  adjoining  the 
stable,  and  did  so  on  the  night  of  Thomson's  death. 
The  prisoner  slept  at  one  end  of  the  house,  the  house- 
keeper at  the  other,  and  the  deceased  had  been  put 
in  a  room  adjoining  the  housekeeper's. 

It  would  be  proved,  that  about  three  hours  after 
midnight,  on  the  night  of  Thomson's  death,  a  light  had 
been  seen  moving  about  the  house,  and  that  a  figure 
holding  the  light  was  seen  to  go  from  the  room  in 
which  the  prisoner  slept  to  the  housekeeper's  room  ; 
the  light  now  disappeared  for  a  minute,  when  two 
persons  were  seen,  but  whether  they  went  into  Thom- 
son's room  the  witness  could  not  swear ;  but  shortly 
after  they  were  observed  passing  quite  through  the 
entry  to  Smith's  room,  into  which  they  entered,  and  in 
about  five  minutes  the  light  was  extinguished. 

The  witness  would  further  state  that,  after  the 
person  had  returned  with  the  light  into  Smith's  room, 
and  before  it  was  extinguished,  he  had  twice  perceived 
some  dark  object  to  intervene  between  the  light  and 
the  window,  almost  as  large  as  the  surface  of  the 
window  itself,  and  which  he  described  by  saying  it 
appeared  as  if  a  door  had  been  placed  before  the  light. 
Now,  in  Smith's  room,  there  was  nothing  which  could 
account  for  this  appearance ;  his  bed  was  in  a  different 
part ;  and  there  was  neither  cupboard  nor  press  in  the 
room,  which,  but  for  the  bed,  was  entirely  empty,  the 
room  in  which  he  dressed  being  at  a  distance  beyond  it. 

The    counsel    for   the    prosecution    here    concluded 


THE  PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER.  jg^ 

what  he  had  to  say.  During  his  address  Smith  ap- 
peared in  no  wise  to  be  agitated  or  distressed ;  and 
equally  unmoved  was  he  while  the  witnesses  testified  in 
substance  what  the  opening  speech  of  the  counsel  led 
the  court  and  the  jury  to  expect. 

Lord  Mansfield  now  addressed  the  jury.  He  told  them 
that,  in  his  opinion,  the  evidence  was  not  sufficient  to 
condemn  the  prisoner  ;  and  that  if  the  jury  agreed  with 
him  in  opinion,  the  court  would  discharge  him.  With- 
out leaving  their  seats  the  jury  agreed  that  the  evi- 
dence was  not  sufficient. 

At  this  moment,  when  they  were  about  to  render 
a  verdict  of  acquittal,  the  prisoner  rose  and  addressed 
the  court.  He  said  that  he  had  been  accused  of  a 
foul  crime,  and  the  jury  had  said  that  there  was  not 
sufficient  evidence  to  convict  him.  Did  the  jury  mean 
that  there  was  any  evidence  against  him  ?  Was  he  to 
go  out  of  court  with  suspicions  resting  upon  him  after 
all  ?  This  he  was  unwilling  to  do.  He  was  an  inno- 
eent  man,  and  if  the  judge  would  grant  him  an  oppor- 
tunity, he  would  prove  it.  He  would  call  his  house- 
keeper, who  would  confirm  a  statement  which  he  would 
now  make. 

The  housekeeper  had  not  appeared  in  court.  She 
had  concealed  herself,  or  had  been  concealed  by  Smith. 
This  was  considered  a  dark  sign  against  him.  But  he 
himself  now  offered  to  bring  her  forward,  and  stated 
as  the  reason,  not  that  he  was  unwilling  that  she  should 
testify,  but  knowing  the  excitement,  he  was  fearful  that 
she  might  be  bribed  to  give  testimony  contrary  to  fact. 
But  he  was  now  ready  to  relate  all  the  circumstances 
he  knew ;  she  might,  then;  be  called  and  be  examined. 
If  her  testimony  does  not  confirm  my  story,  let  me  be 
condemned. 


j84  THE  PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER. 

The  request  of  the  prisoner  seemed  reasonable,  and 
Lord  Mansfield,  contrary  to  his  usual  practice,  granted  it. 

The  prisoner  went  on  with  his  statement.  He  said 
he  wished  to  go  out  of  court  relieved  from  the  suspi- 
cions which  were  resting  upon  him.  As  to  the  poison, 
by  means  of  which  the  stranger  was  said  to  have  died, 
he  knew  neither  the  name  of  it,  nor  the  effect  of  it,  nor 
even  of  the  existence  of  it,  until  made  known  by  the 
counsel.  He  could  call  God  to  witness  the  truth  of 
what  he  said. 

And,  then,  as  to  Mr.  Thomson,  he  was  a  perfect 
stranger  to  him.  How  should  he  know  what  articles  of 
value  he  had  with  him.  He  did  not  know.  If  he  had 
such  articles  at  Hull,  he  might  have  lost  them  on  the 
road ;  or,  which  was  more  probable,  have  otherwise  dis- 
posed of  them.  And  if  he  died  by  means  of  the  fatal 
drug,  he  must  have  administered  it  himself. 

He  begged  the  jury  to  remember  that  his  premises 
had  been  repeatedly  and  minutely  searched,  and  that 
not  the  most  trifling  article  that  belonged  to  the  de- 
ceased had  been  discovered  in  his  possession.  The 
stopper  of  a  vial  had  been  found,  but  of  this  he  could 
only  say  he  had  no  knowledge,  and  had  never  seen  it 
before  it  was  produced  in  court. 

One  fact  had  been  proved,  and  only  one.  That  he 
would  explain,  and  his  housekeeper  would  confirm  his 
statement.  A  witness  had  testified  that  some  one  had 
gone  to  the  bedroom  of  the  housekeeper  on  the  night 
in  question.  He  was  ready  to  admit  that  it  was  he 
himself.  He  had  been  subject  for  many  years  of  his 
life  to  sudden  fits  of  illness  ;  he  had  been  seized  with 
one  on  that  occasion,  and  had  gone  to  her  to  procure 
her  assistance  in  lighting  a  fire.  She  had  returned 
with  him  to  his  room  for  that  purpose,  he  having 


THE  PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER.  jgr 

waited  for  a  minute  in  the  passage,  while  she  put  on 
her  clothes.  This  would  account  for  the  momentary 
disappearance  of  the  light.  After  remaining  a  few 
minutes  in  his  room,  finding  himself  better,  he  had  dis- 
missed her,  and  retired  to  bed,  from  which  he  had 
not  risen  when  he  was  informed  of  the  death  of  the 
guest. 

Such  was  the  prisoner's  address,  which  produced  a 
powerful  effect.  It  was  delivered  in  a  very  firm  and 
impressive  manner;  and  from  the  simple  and  artless 
manner  of  the  man,  perhaps  not  one  present  doubted 
his  entire  innocence. 

The  housekeeper  was  now  introduced,  and  examined 
by  counsel  for  the  prisoner.  She  had  not  heard  any 
part  of  the  statement  of  Smith,  nor  a  single  word  of 
the  trial.  Her  story  confirmed  all  that  he  had  said. 

To  this  succeeded  her  cross-examination  by  the 
counsel  for  the  prosecution.  One  circumstance  had 
made  a  deep  impression  on  his  mind ;  this  was,  that 
while  the  prisoner  and  the  housekeeper  were  in  the 
room  of  the  former,  something  like  a  door  had  ob- 
structed the  light  of  the  candle,  so  the  witness  testified 
to  the  fact,  but  could  not  see  it.  What  was  the  ob- 
struction ?  There  was  no  door —  nothing  in  the  room 
which  could  account  for  this.  Yet  the  witness  was 
positive  that  something  like  a  door  did,  for  a  moment, 
come  between  the  window  and  the  candle.  This  needed 
explanation.  The  housekeeper  was  the  only  person 
that  could  give  it.  Designing  to  probe  this  matter  in 
the  end  to  the  bottojr..,  but  not  wishing  to  excite  her 
alarm,  he  began  by  asking  her  a  few  unimportant  ques- 
tions, and  among  others,  where  the  candle  stood  while 
she  was  in  Mr.  Smith's  room. 

"  In  the  center  t/the  room,"  she  replied. 


1 86  THE  PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER. 

"  Well,  and  was  the  closet,  or  cupboard,  or  whatever 
you  call  it,  opened  once  or  twice  while  it  stood  there  ?  " 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  I  will  help  your  recollection,"  said  the  counsel ; 
"  after  Mr.  Smith  had  taken  the  medicine  out  of  the 
closet,  did  he  shut  the  door,  or  did  it  remain  open  ? " 

"  He  shut  it." 

"  And,  when  he  replaced  the  bottle  in  the  closet,  he 
opened  it  again,  did  he  ?  " 

"  He  did." 

"  And  how  long  was  it  open  the  last  time  ?  " 

'"  Not  above  a  minute." 

"  Well,  and  when  open,  would  the  door  be  exactly 
between  the  light  and  the  window  ?  " 

"  It  would." 

"  I  forget,"  said  the  counsel,  "  whether  you  said  the 
closet  was  on  the  right  or  the  left  hand  side  of  the 
window  ?  " 

"  On  the  left  hand  side." 

"  Would  the  door  of  the  closet  make  any  noise  in 
opening  ?  " 

"  None." 

"  Are  you  certain  ?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  Have  you  ever  opened  it  yourself,  or  only  seen 
Mr.  Smith  open  it  ?  " 

"  I  never  opened  it  myself." 

"  Did  you  ever  keep  the  key  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  Who  did  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Smith,  always." 

At  this  moment  the  housekeeper  chanced  to  cast 
her  eye  toward  Smith,  the  prisoner.  His  countenance 
suddenly  changed.  A  cold,  damp  sweat  stood  upon  his 


THE  PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER. 


I87 


brow,  and  his  face  had  lost  all  its  color.  He  appeared 
a  living  image  of  death.  She  no  sooner  saw  him  than 
she  shrieked  and  fainted.  The  consequence  of  her 
answers  flashed  across  her  mind.  She  had  been  so 
thoroughly  deceived  by  the  manner  of  the  advocate, 
and  by  the  little  importance  he  had  seemed  to  attach 
to  her  statements,  that  she  had  been  led  on  by  one 
question  to  another,  till  she  had  told  him  all  he  wanted 
to  know. 

She  was  obliged  to  be  taken  from  the  court,  and  a 
physician,  who  was  present,  was  requested  to  attend 
her.  At  this  time  the  solicitor  for  the  prosecution 
(answering  to  our  state's  attorney),  left  the  court,  but 
no  one  knew  for  what  purpose.  Presently  the  physician 
came  into  court,  and  stated  that  it  would  be  impossible 
for  the  housekeeper  to  resume  her  seat  in  the  box  short 
of  an  hour  or  two. 

It  was  about  twelve  in  the  day.  Lord  Mansfield, 
having  directed  that  the  jury  should  be  accommodated 
with  a  room,  where  they  could  be  kept  by  themselves, 
adjourned  the  court  two  hours.  The  prisoner  in  the 
meantime  was  remanded  to  jail. 

It  was  between  four  and  five  o'clock  when  the  judge 
resumed  his  seat  upon  the  bench.  The  prisoner  was 
again  placed  at  the  bar,  and  the  housekeeper  brought  in 
and  led  to  the  box.  The  court-room  was  crowded  to 
excess,  and  an  awful  silence  pervaded  the  place. 

The  cross-examining  counsel  again  addressed  the 
housekeeper.  "  I  have  but  a  few  more  questions  to  ask 
you,"  said  he  ;  "  take  heed  how  you  answer,  for  your  own 
life  hangs  upon  a  thread." 

"  Do  you  know  this  stopper?" 

"  I  do." 

"To  whom  does  it  belong?" 


1 88  THE  PRESUMPTUOUS  MURDERER. 

"To  Mr.  Smith." 
11  When  did  you  see  it  last  ?  " 
"  On  the  night  of  Mr.  Thomson's  death." 
At    this    moment   the    solicitor   entered   the    court, 
bringing  with   him    upon  a  tray,  a  watch,  two   money- 
bags, a  jewel-case,  a  pocket-book,  and  a  bottle  of  the 
same  manufacture  as  the  stopper,  and  having  a  cork  in 
it.     The  tray  was   placed  on  the  table  in  sight  of  the 
prisoner  and  the  witness,  and  from  that  moment  not  a 
doubt  remained  in  the  mind  of  any  man  of  the  guilt  of 
the  prisoner. 

A  few  words  will  bring  this  melancholy  tale  to  its 
close.  The  house,  where  the  murder  had  been  com- 
mitted, was  between  nine  and  ten  miles  distant.  The 
solicitor,  as  soon  as  the  cross-examination  of  the  house- 
keeper had  discovered  the  existence  of  the  closet  and 
its  situation,  had  set  off  on  horseback,  with  two  sheriff's 
officers,  and,  after  pulling  down  a  part  of  the  wall  of 
the  house,  had  detected  this  important  place  of  con- 
cealment. Their  search  was  well  rewarded  ;  the  whole 
of  the  property  belonging  to  Mr.  Thomson  was  found 
there,  amounting  in  value  to  some  thousand  pounds  ; 
and  to  leave  no  room  for  doubt  a  bottle  was  discovered, 
which  the  medical  men  instantly  pronounced  to  contain 
the  very  identical  poison  which  had  caused  the  death  of 
the  unfortunate  Thomson.  The  result  was  too  obvious 
to  need  explanation. 

It  scarcely  need  be  added  that  Smith  was  convicted 
and  executed,  and  brought  to  this  awful  punishment  by 
his  own  means.  Had  he  said  nothing  —  had  he  not 
persisted  in  calling  a  witness  to  prove  his  innocence,  he 
might  have  escaped.  But  God  had  evidently  left  him 
to  work  out  his  own  ruin,  as  a  just  reward  of  his  awful 
crime. 


A   FLOATING   CITT. 


A   FLOATING    CITY. 


189 


E  of  the  most  wonderful  cities  in  the  world 
is  Bangkok.  It  is  the  capital  of  Siam,  and  is 
situated  on  —  or  rather  in  —  the  great  river 
Meinam.  We  find  the  following  graphic  account 
of  it  in  a  volume  of  recent  travels  —  "The  Capital 
of  Siam."  Did  you  ever  witness  such  a  sight  in 
your  life?  On  either  side  of  the  wide,  majestic 
stream,  moored  in  regular  streets  and  alleys,  and  ex- 
tending as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  are  upward  of 
70,000  neat  little  wooden  houses,  each  house  floating 
on  a  compact  raft  of  bamboos ;  and  the  whole  inter- 
mediate space  of  the  river  presents  to  our  astonished 
gaze  one  dense  mass  of  ships,  junks  and  boats,  of  every 
conceivable  shape,  color  and  size.  As  we  glide  along 
among  these,  we  occasionally  encounter  a  stray  floating 
house,  broken  loose  from  its  moorings,  and  hurrying 
down  the  stream  with  the  tide,  amidst  the  uproar  and 
shouts  of  the  inhabitants  and  all  the  spectators.  We 
also  observe  that  all  the  front  row  of  houses  are  neatly 
painted  shops  in  which  various  tempting  commodities 
are  exposed  for  sale ;  behind  these  again,  at  equal  dis- 
tances, rise  the  lofty  and  elegant  porcelain  towers  of 
the  various  watts  and  temples.  On  our  right-hand 
side,  far  away  as  we  can  see,  are  three  stately  pillars, 
erected  to  the  memory  of  three  defunct  kings,  cele- 
brated for  some  acts  of  valor  and  justice ;  and  a  little 
beyond  these,  looming  like  a  line-of-battle  ship  among 
a  lot  of  cockle-shells,  rises  the  straggling  and  not  very 
elegant  palace  of  the  king,  where  his  Siamese  majesty, 
with  ever  so  many  wives  and  children,  resides.  Right 
ahead,  where  the  city  terminates,  and  the  river,  making 


I90  A   FLOATING   CITT. 

a  curve,  flows  behind  the  palace,  is  a  neat-looking  fort, 
surmounted  with  a  tope  of  mango  trees,  over  which 
peep  the  roofs  of  one  or  two  houses,  and  a  tall  flag- 
staff, from  which  floats  the  royal  pennant  and  jack  of 
Siam  —  a  flag  of  red  ground-work,  with  a  white  ele- 
phant worked  into  the  center.  That  is  the  fort  and 
palace  of  Prince  Chou  Fau,  now  King  of  Siam,  and 
one  of  the  most  extraordinary  and  intellectual  men  in 
the  East.  Of  him,  however,  we  shall  see  and  hear 
more,  after  we  have  bundled  our  traps  on  shore  and 
taken  a  little  rest.  Now,  be  careful  how  you  step  out 
of  the  boat  into  the  balcony  of  the  floating  house,  for 
it  will  recede  to  the  force  of  your  effort  to  mount,  and 
if  not  aware  of  this  you  lose  your  balance  and  fall  into 
the  river.  Now  we  are  safely  transshipped,  for  we  can- 
not as  yet  say  landed  ;  but  we  now  form  an  item,  though 
a  very  small  one,  of  the  vast  population  of  the  city  of 
Bangkok. 

We  take  a  brief  survey  of  our  present  apartments, 
and  find  everything,  though  inconveniently  small, 
cleanly  and  in  other  respects  comfortable.  First,  we 
have  a  little  balcony  which  overh?ngs  the  river,  and 
is  about  twenty  yards  long  by  one  and  a  half  broad. 
Then  we  have  an  excellent  sitting-room,  which  serves 
us  for  parlor,  dining-room  and  all ;  then  we  have  a  little 
side  room  for  books  and  writing ;  and  behind  these, 
extending  the  length  of  the  other  two,  a  bedroom.  Of 
course  we  must  bring  or  make  our  own  furniture ;  for, 
though  those  houses  inhabited  by  the  Chinese  are 
pretty  well  off  on  this  score,  the  Siamese  have  seldom 
anything  besides  their  bedding  materials,  a  few  pots 
and  pans  to  cook  with,  a  few  jars  of  stores  and  a  fish- 
ing-net or  two.  Every  house  has  a  canoe  attached  to 
it,  and  no  nation  detests  walking  so  much  as  the  Siam- 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  SIGHS. 


1 92  A  FLOATING  CITT. 

ese;  at  the  same  time  they  are  all  expert  swimmers, 
and  both  men  and  women  begin  to  acquire  this  very 
necessary  art  at  a  very  early  age.  Without  it  a  man 
runs  momentary  risk  of  being  drowned,  as,  when  a 
canoe  upsets,  none  of  the  passers-by  ever  think  it 
necessary  to  lend  any  aid,  supposing  them  fully  ad- 
equate to  the  task  of  saving  their  own  lives.  Canoes 
are  hourly  being  upset,  owing  to  the  vast  concourse 
of  vessels  and  boats  plying  to  and  fro  ;  and,  owing  to 
this  negligence  or  carelessness  in  rendering  assistance, 
a  Mr.  Benham,  an  American  missionary,  lost  his  life 
some  twelve  years  ago,  having  upset  his  own  canoe 
when  it  was  just  getting  dusk,  and  though  surrounded 
by  hundreds  of  boats,  not  one  deemed  it  necessary  to 
stop  and  pick  the  poor  man  up. 

In  Siam  a  kind  of  rascality  is  continually  being  car- 
ried on  under  cover  of  friendship  or  by  sleight  of  hand, 
and  the  victim  finds  no  one  more  sympathizing  than 
the  one  who  has  fleeced  him. 

One  of  the  government  officers  received  of  a  neigh- 
bor of  mine  five  hundred  Mexican  dollars,  for  which  he 
was  to  receive  deals,  the  legal  coin  of  the  Siamese.  A 
large  portion  of  the  ticals  that  circulate  in  the  country 
are  counterfeit,  being  simply  copper  plated  with  silver. 
They  are  precisely  the  same  weight  and  size  as  the 
silver  tical.  How  the  make-up  is  conducted  to  secure 
this  I  have  never  known  ;  I  simply  know  that  the 
substance  plated  is  called  copper.  To  the  ordinary 
observer  the  genuine  and  the  counterfeit  tical  look 
alike,  but  there  are  those  who  are  called  "  money  look- 
ers "  who  seem  to  know  a  good  or  a  bad  tical  at  sight. 

My  neighbor  took  one  of  those  professional  detec- 
tives and  went  to  the  prince  for  his  money.  The 
inspector  looked  it  over  and  pronounced  it  all  good, 


A   FLOATING  CITT.  JQ^ 

when  it  was  received  and  deposited  in  the  home  treas- 
ury. But  it  was  afterward  found  that  full  half  of  it 
was  counterfeit.  The  inspector  could  nowhere  be 
found,  and  when  the  prince  was  notified  of  the  fact 
he  simply  said:  "It's  bad.  truly,  but  according  to 
Siamese  law  and  usage,  when  you  accepted  the  money 
my  responsibility  was  at  an  end.  Probably  your  ser- 
vants in  some  way  have  taken  away  your  good  ticals 
and  put  bad  ones  in  their  place.  The  common  Siam- 
ese great  thieves,  very." 

I  was  afterward  told  that  this  inspector  was  sent  by 
the  prince  to  help  him  effect  his  cheat.  The  prince 
was  as  bland  and  childlike  as  possible,  and  expressed 
the  strongest  sympathy  for  his  very  dear  friend  who 
had  suffered  such  a  loss.  Once  after  this,  when  I  was 
at  the  palace  of  this  same  prince,  he  said  to  me  with  a 
smile  :  "  Missionary  cheat  easy  when  he  first  come,  but 
after  a  while  he  gets  wisdom." 

Down  the  river  a  native  merchant  kept  a  supply 
store,  to  which  foreigners  were  accustomed  to  resort  for 
stores.  He  was  a  nabob  of  his  line  and  supported  a 
grave  dignity.  Usually  during  business  hours  he  could 
be  seen  sitting  on  an  embroidered  mat  on  a  raised  plat- 
form, and  a  servant  lying  at  his  side  and  blowing  him 
with  a  long-handled  decorated  fan.  He  acted  as 
cashier  and  general  director,  was  very  genial  and  affable, 
and  made  his  customers  feel  that  he  was  doing  his 
whole  business  with  special  reference  to  their  interests. 
It  was  often  remarkable  to  see  how  cheap  he  would 
sell  just  for  friendship's  sake,  "seeing  it's  you,"  and 
then  he  would  seem  happy  in  view  of  the  fact  that  he 
had  lost  and  you  gained.  Yet  it  was  said  that  no  one 
made  money  faster  than  he.  He  was  very  popular,  but 


A   FLOATING   CITT. 


yet  with  the  foreigners  there  was  a  secret  suspicion  that 
somehow  he  was  fooling  them  all  the  time. 

At  length  the  fact  came  out  that  while  he  was  sell- 
ing goods  at  reduced  prices,  he  was  swindling  his 
customers  most  egregiously.  This  not  by  poor  articles 
or  short  weight,  for  he  always  kept  good  articles  and 
gave  full  measure.  His  trick  was  this:  When  you 
made  your  purchase,  he  would  receive  your  money,  and 
in  the  most  public  way  would  look  at  it  for  a  moment 
according  to  custom,  and  then  hand  it  back  with  the 
words,  "  please  exchange,"  i.e.  please  give  me  other 
ticals  in  place  of  these.  Ask  him  if  those  are  not  good  ; 
"  Oh,  yes,"  he  would  say,  "  but  I  have  to  be  very  par- 
ticular and  get  money  that  looks  first-rate,  or  I  should 
lose  some,  and  as  I  sell  so  very  cheap,  I  cannot  afford 
to  lose  one  bat  (tical)."  This  of  course  would  be  sat- 
isfactory, and  you  would  let  him  select  from  what  you 
have. 

As  you  turn  your  boat  homeward  you  smile  with 
satisfaction  because  you  have  bought  your  goods  so 
cheaply,  and  settle  your  mind  to  always  patronize  him. 
At  the  same  time  he  is  laughing  inwardly  because  he 
received  pay  for  his  goods  twice  over.  You  think  you 
have  paid  him,  say  five  ticals,  but  in  fact  you  have  paid 
him  ten.  In  his  left-hand  sleeve  were  counterfeit  ticals 
in  store  for  use.  When  you  give  him  the  first  ticals  he 
seems  to  hold  them  up  before  his  face  a  moment,  turn- 
ing them  over  with  his  right  forefinger.  As  he  hands 
them  back  for  you  to  exchange,  somehow  the  ticals  you 
gave  him  have  gone  down  into  his  sleeve,  and  five 
counterfeits  have  come  up.  You  would  swear,  probably, 
that  no  change  was  made,  and  yet  the  fact  is  that  you 
go  away  with  five  counterfeits,  and  he  pockets  ten  good 
ones  that  you  brought  with  you. 


JUGGLEKS   OF  INDIA.  ^ 

A  native  told  me  what  was  done,  so  to  test  it  I 
marked  a  tical,  and  then  as  nearly  as  I  could  followed  the 
usual  custom.  I  gave  him  my  ticals  ;  he  held  it  up  be- 
tween his  thumb  and  finger  for  a  moment  as  if  exam- 
ining it,  then  handed  it  back  with  a  kaw  plem  (please 
exchange).  I  looked,  and  lo  !  it  was  not  the  one  I  gave 
him.  I  told  him  so,  but  his  resentment  was  so  terrible 
that  I  was  sorry  I  made  the  charge.  I  quit  trading 
with  him  and  went  to  be  cheated  in  other  places. 

No  doubt  the  heathen  Siamese  can  be  imposed  upon 
by  the  civilized,  and  outwitted  in  some  things,  but  while 
this  is  being  done  it  is  not  at  all  certain  that  the  native 
will  not  at  last  come  out  ahead. 


JUGGLERS    OF    INDIA. 

:EV.  MR.  GAUNTER  gives  a  description  of 
"  the  basket  trick  "  which  he  witnessed  in  India : 
A  stout,  ferocious-looking  fellow  stepped  for- 
ward, with  a  common  wicker  basket  of  the  country, 
which  he  begged  we  would  carefully  examine.  This 
we  accordingly  did  ;  it  was  of  the  slightest  texture, 
and  admitted  the  light  through  a  thousand  apertures. 
Under  this  fragile  covering  he  placed  a  child  about 
eight  years  old,  an  interesting  little  girl,  habited  in  the 
only  garb  which  nature  had  provided  for  her,  perfect  of 
frame  and  elastic  of  limb  —  a  model  for  a  cherub,  and 
scarcely  darker  than  a  child  of  southern  France.  When 
she  was  properly  secured,  the  man,  with  a  lowering 
aspect,  asked  her  some  question,  which  she  instantly 
answered,  and,  as  the  thing  was  done  within  a  few  feet 


I96  JUGGLERS   OF  INDIA. 

from  the  spot  on  which  we  were  seated,  the  voice  ap- 
peared to  come  so  distinctly  from  the  basket  that  I  felt 
at  once  satisfied  there  was  no  deception. 

They  held  a  conversation  for  some  moments,  when 
the  juggler,  almost  with  a  scream  of  passion,  threat- 
ened to  kill  her.  There  was  a  stern  reality  in  the  whole 
scene  which  was  perfectly  dismaying ;  it  was  acted  to 
the  life,  but  terrible  to  see  and  hear.  The  child  was 
heard  to  beg  for  mercy,  when  the  juggler  seized  a 
sword,  placed  his  foot  upon  the  frail  wicker  covering 
under  which  his  supposed  victim  was  so  piteously  sup- 
plicating his  forbearance,  and  to  my  absolute  conster- 
nation and  horror,  plunged  it  through,  withdrawing  it 
several  times  and  repeating  the  plunge  with  all  the 
ferocity  of  an  excited  demon. 

By  this  time  his  countenance  exhibited  an  expression 
fearfully  indicative  of  the  most  frantic  of  human  pas- 
sions. The  shrieks  of  the  child  were  so  real  and 
distracting  that  they  almost  curdled  for  a  few  mo- 
ments the  whole  mass  of  my  blood ;  my  first  impulse 
was  to  rush  upon  the  monster,  and  fell  him  to  the 
earth  ;  but  he  was  armed  and  I  defenseless.  I  looked 
at  my  companions  —  they  appeared  to  be  pale  and 
paralyzed  with  terror ;  and  yet  these  feelings  were 
somewhat  neutralized  by  the  consciousness  that  the 
man  could  not  dare  to  commit  a  deliberate  murder 
in  the  broad  eye  of  day,  before  so  many  witnesses  ; 
still  the  whole  thing  was  appalling. 

The  blood  ran  in  streams  from  the  basket ;  the 
child  was  heard  to  struggle  under  it ;  her  groans  fell 
horribly  upon  the  ear ;  her  struggles  smote  painfully 
upon  the  heart.  The  former  were  gradually  subdued 
into  a  faint  moan,  and  the  latter  into  a  slight  rustling 
sound  ;  we  seemed  to  hear  the  last  convulsive  gasp 


TRAINED  ELEPHANTS.  j^ 

which  was  to  see  her  innocent  soul  free  from  the  gored 
body,  when,  to  our  inexpressible  astonishment  and  re- 
lief, after  muttering  a  few  cabalistic  words,  the  juggler 
took  up  the  basket,  but  no  child  was  to  be  seen.  The 
spot  was  indeed  dyed  with  blood ;  but  there  was  no 
mortal  remains,  and,  after  a  few  moments  of  undissem- 
bled  wonder,  we  perceived  the  object  of  our  alarm 
coming  toward  us  from  among  the  crowd. 

She  advanced  and  saluted  us,  holding  out  her  hand 
for  our  donations,  which  we  bestowed  with  hearty  good 
will ;  she  received  them  with  a  most  graceful  salaam, 
and  the  party  left  us  well  satisfied  with  our  more  than 
expected  gratuity.  What  rendered  the  deception  the 
more  extraordinary  was,  that  the  man  stood  aloof  from 
the  crowd  during  the  whole  performance  —  there  was 
not  a  person  within  several  feet  of  him. 


TRAINED    ELEPHANTS. 

LUGE  and  powerful  as  the  elephant  is,  it  is  easily 
i  brought  under  control  by  man,  and  soon  learns 
'5S*  to  understand  and  obey  his  orders.  He  will 
carry  with  his  trunk  the  timber  intended  for  build- 
ing and  other  purposes,  and  sometimes  the  ends 
of  the  beams  are  tied  with  a  rope,  which  the  ele- 
phant twists  round  his  trunk,  and  thus  drags  the 
load  behind  him.  He  draws  with  ease  a  block  of  wood 
that  twenty-five  men  can  hardly  move. 

Elephants  also  carry  heavy  burdens  on  their  backs, 
their    necks,   their  tusks,   and    even    in    their   mouths. 


198 


TRAINED  ELEPHANTS. 


They  never  break  or  injure  anything  committed  to 
their  charge.  From  the  banks  of  the  rivers  they  put 
their  burdens  into  boats  without  wetting  them,  laying 
them  gently  down,  and  arranging  them  where  they 
ought  to  be  placed. 

They  have  been  extensively  used  in  India  from 
remote  times ;  and  the  English  now  use  them  just  as 
the  natives  always  have  done.  They  are  so  exceed- 
ingly useful  that  the  government  has  wisely  forbidden 
the  killing  of  any  of  them,  under  severe  penalties,  and 
it  permits  the  hunting  of  them  only  to  those  who  will 
be  careful  not  to  injure  them. 

In  the  regions  where  elephants  live,  the  elephant 
catchers  make  a  large,  strong  pen  of  beams  and  logs 
of  wood,  the  upright  parts  being  set  very  deep  in  the 
ground,  so  as  to  stand  firm.  From  the  large  pen  there 
is  an  opening  -into  a  smaller  one,  and  from  this  into 
another  still  smaller.  After  the  pens  are  all  ready, 
many  hundred  men  surround  a  large  herd  of  elephants 
and  begin  to  drive  them  toward  the  pens.  As  elephants 
are  very  much  afraid  of  fire,  the  men  build  fires  at 
night,  and  these  keep  the  elephants  from  trying  to 
get  out  of  the  ring  which  the  men  have  formed  around 
them.  During  the  daytime  the  people  keep  up  a  loud 
noise  with  drums,  rattles,  and  the  firing  of  muskets. 
The  elephants  are  thus  gradually  driven  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  pens,  and  at  last  the  herd,  or  a  part  of  it, 
is  made  to  enter  the  large  pen,  the  entrance  to  which 
is  at  once  tightly  closed. 

The  elephants  now  perceive  that  they  are  en- 
trapped, and  bellow  loudly  -with  rage,  but  seeing  no 
passage  except  into  the  next  pen,  after  some  delay 
they  enter  it  in  the  hope  of  escape.  Finally  they  enter 
the  smallest  of  the  pens ;  from  this  a  long  passage 


ELEPHANTS   IN    THEIR    NATIVE   STATE. 


2QO  TRAINED  ELEPHANTS. 

leads  to  the  open  country,  but  so  narrow  that  the 
elephant  cannot  turn  around  in  it,  and  only  one  animal 
at  a  time  can  pass  along.  Into  this  passage  the  ele- 
phants, one  by  one,  are  driven  or  coaxed  by  food  ;  and 
as  soon  as  one  ventures  in,  the  door  behind  him  is 
quickly  closed  ;  he  is  then  bound  with  strong  ropes, 
and  a  strong  rope  is  also  put  around  his  neck,  and  each 
end  of  the  rope  is  fastened  to  a  well-trained  tame 
elephant,  and  thus  the  tame  elephant  helps  his  master 
to  take  the  captured  one  to  two  large  trees,  to  both 
of  which  he  is  securely  fastened. 

The  elephant  at  first  struggles,  and  tries  hard  to 
get  away,  but  soon  he  becomes  tired  out,  and  weak  and 
hungry,  and  is  willing  to  eat  the  food  which  is  brought 
to  him,  and  so  he  grows  more  and  more  tame  each 
day,  and  at  last  he  comes  to  like  the  man  who  brings 
him  food,  and  obeys  him  as  his  master. 

In  their  wild  state  they  never  try  to  hurt  smaller 
animals,  and  if  a  wounded  man  or  little  child  be  in 
their  way,  they  will  remove  him  carefully  and  pass  on. 
When  a  herd  is  on  its  march  through  the  forests,  the 
large  male  elephants  put  themselves  in  the  front  and 
tear  down  branches  and  uproot  trees,  to  clear  the  way 
for  the  females,  the  young,  and  those  that  are  feeble 
through  age,  who  follow  behind. 

If  they  act  thus  while  in  their  wild  state,  we  may 
imagine  how  gen  Lie  and  careful  they  are  when  tamed 
and  treated  kindly.  They  are  very  fond  of  little  chil- 
dren, and  Hindoo  mothers  often  leave  their  little  ones 
in  their  charge.  The  mother  will  place  her  babe  on 
the  grass,  under  the  shade  of  a  large  tree,  and  will  say 
to  the  elephant,  "  Mind  the  baby,"  and  he  will  keep 
the  most  careful  watch  of  it,  and  if  it  walks  or  creeps 
from  under  the  shade,  he  will  very  gently  enfold  it  with 


TRAINED  ELEPHANTS.  2OI 

his  trunk  and  carry  it  back.  If  flies  or  mosquitoes 
trouble  the  little  one,  he  will  tear  off  a  branch  from 
the  tree  and  keep  them  off,  and  the  child  is  no  more 
afraid  of  the  immense  but  kind  animal  than  a  little  one 
with  us  is  of  the  family  dog.  It  is  wonderful,  too,  with 
what  gentleness  and  care  these  enormous  animals  will 
make  their  way  through  crowded  streets  of  Indian 
cities,  gently  touching  with  their  trunks  those  who  are 
in  their  way,  and  never  hurting  anybody. 

Elephants  have  a  decided  liking  for  military  life. 
Various  regiments  while  serving  in  the  East  have  had 
such  an  animal,  which  often  rendered  good  service  to 
the  corps  to  which  he  might  be  attached.  The  King's 
Rangers  at  one  time  were  in  possession  of  a  fine  male 
of  enormous  size,  which  for  many  years  was  never  once 
absent  from  parade.  As  soon  as  the  bugle  sounded  he 
would  walk  majestically  to  the  place  of  muster,  and 
take  up  his  position  at  the  right  of  the  column.  If  the 
mahout  or  driver  presented  himself,  the  elephant  would 
lift  him  onto  his  shoulders  by  means  of  his  trunk,  and 
evidently  without  the  slightest  effort  to  himself;  but  if 
left  to  his  own  unaided  intelligence,  he  obeyed  the  or- 
dinary words  of  command  without  ever  making  a  mis- 
take, such  as :  "  Right  face,"  "  March,"  "  Mark  time," 
"  Halt."  He  insisted  at  all  times  on  giving  help  to  the 
men  whenever  they  were  engaged  in  loading  or  unload- 
ing baggage,  and  was  evidently  pleased  to  be  allowed 
to  make  himself  useful.  When  the  wagons  were  im- 
peded on  the  march,  as  it  not  infrequently  happened, 
Jock  was  duly  sensible  of  his  own  importance,  for  by 
his  enormous  strength  he  would  push  a  heavy  load  up 
a  steep  declivity,  which  six  or  eight  oxen  failed  to  do 
without  his  assistance. 

It  happened  that  the  Rangers  were  suddenly  ordered 


2O2 


TRAINED  ELEPHANTS. 


to  embark  for  China,  and  there  was  no  accommodation 
for  taking  Jock  on  shipboard.  To  the  great  disappoint- 
ment of  the  men,  the  authorities  decided  that  he  should 
be  left  in  India.  He  was,  however,  permitted  to  accom- 
pany the  regiment  as  far  as  the  quay  to  watch  the 
troops  as  they  went  on  board,  many  of  whom  had  a 
parting  word  of  kindness  for  their  old  comrade.  "  Good- 
bye, old  man,"  and  "  Poor  old  Jock,"  were  repeated, 
with  many  variations,  both  by  officers  and  men.  Mean- 
while the  animal  watched  the  proceedings  with  great 
apparent  interest,  as  if  wondering  when  his  own  turn 
would  come  to  go  on  board.  But  when  the  vessel 
steamed  off  and  left  him  ashore  he  became  frantic 
with  rage  and  disappointment.  It  had  been  proposed 
that  he  should  be  transferred  to  another  corps,  but  he 
most  persistently  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
it.  Neither  the  coaxing  nor  the  threats  of  his  mahout 
were  of  any  avail.  Though  he  had  previously  man- 
ifested the  gentlest  disposition,  he  now  threateningly 
withstood  all  kindly  advances  on  the  part  of  his  would- 
be  comrades,  and  at  length  so  savage  did  he  become 
that  it  was  deemed  expedient  to  place  him  in  confine- 
ment. Even  the  mahout  himself  was  several  times 
placed  in  a  very  awkward  predicament,  and  on  one 
occasion  barely  escaped  with  his  life.  No  means  could 
be  found  to  assuage  the  grief  or  to  calm  the  anger  of 
this  faithful  creature,  which  so  constantly  mourned  the 
loss  of  his  friends.  But  in  little  less  than  two  years 
the  Rangers  came  back  to  their  old  quarters,  and  were 
informed  of  the  melancholy  change  which  had  come 
over  their  old  comrade. 

"No  go  near  —  no  touch,  sahib;   he  strike  hard," 
said  the  mahout ;  "  he  kill." 


THE  ANTARCTIC  REGION. 

"  Why  Jock,  my  boy,"  said  a  young  officer,  formerly 
one  of  his  special  friends,  "  why,  what's  the  matter  ? '' 

The  animal  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  instantly  recog- 
nized the  voice,  which  was  proved  by  his  manifesting 
unmistakable  signs  and  sounds  of  joy.  It  was  quite 
affecting  to  see,  when  once  more  he  was  permitted 
freely  to  repair  to  the  parade-ground,  with  what  kindly 
recognition  he  *  embraced  many  of  his  companions, 
placing  his  trunk  tenderly  on  their  neck  and  shoul- 
ders. I  need  hardly  say  he  was  at  once  reinstated  in 
his  old  regimental  post,  the  duties  of  which  he  recom- 
menced to  discharge  as  if  no  interruption  had  taken 
place. 


THE  ANTARCTIC   REGION. 

SUPERFICIAL  thought  would  lead  one  to  sup- 
pose that  as  we  leave  the  barren,  icy,  desolate 
regions  of  the  polar  world,  and  come  next  into 
the  temperate  regions,  so  on  to  the  tropical  belt, 
or  torrid  zone,  with  its  astonishing  luxuriance  of 
animal  or  vegetable  life,  that  exploration  would 
round  off  and  finish  in  these  scenes  of  magnificent  and 
sweltering  beauty ;  but  not  so.  Beyond  this  the  south 
pole,  or  Antarctic  region,  stretches  wild,  frozen,  and 
infinitely  desolate,  so  that  the  vivid  fancy  causes  the 
mind  to  recoil  from  contemplating  the  terrible  picture. 
At  the  north,  the  indomitable  explorer  sees  open 
channel-ways  beckoning  him  each  year  to  fresh  exertions 
and  new  discoveries ;  but  in  this  awful  Antarctic  ocean, 
impregnable  breastworks  of  ice  hem  in  their  farther 


2OA  THE  ANTARCTIC  REGION. 

progress.  Not  a  flower  here,  only  blades  of  coarse 
grass ;  even  the  invincible  mosses  of  frozen  countries 
fail  to  "  put  in  a  strong  appearance "  in  this  forsaken 
region.  This  country  of  the  South  Pole  —  if  one  may 
speak  of  it  in  this  way  —  is  described,  by  the  few  hardy 
men  who  have  gone  down  to  that  sea  in  ships,  as  awful 
beyond  description.  Icebergs  shifting  under  the  im- 
penetrable fogs,  and  pushing  glistening,  flinty  promon- 
tories out  before  the  straining  ship,  and  projecting  in 
slippery,  merciless  cliffs  as  if  about  to  fall  upon  the 
doomed  vessel's  decks.  Occasionally  the  yielding  of 
one  of  the  frozen  crags  to  its  accumulating  weight  broke 
it  asunder ;  and  while  the  awe-struck  sailors  watched 
through  the  solemn,  fog-walled  night,  they  heard  fierce 
hissings  and  horrible  rushing  noises  and  heavy  detona- 
tions like  submarine  explosions,  or  the  cannonading  of 
some  monster  giants  behind  their  fortresses  of  everlast- 
ing ice. 

No  fur-clad  human  being  here  to  lift  the  inquiring 
glance  at  the  strange  ships  riding  at  anchor  outside  the 
glacier-walled  coast ;  no  companionable  animal  crossing 
with  swift  foot  or  investigating  tread  upon  these  barren 
peaks,  only  the  shrill  screams  of  the  sea  fowl  riding  on 
the  drift  ice,  or  taking  their  swift  or  sluggish  flights  over 
frozen  cape,  promontory,  hill,  or  vale.  Here  congregate 
the  petrel  family  of  several  species ;  the  giant  petrel  or 
cannibal,  it  should  be  termed  —  even  devouring  its  own 
kind  if  one  happens  to  be  wounded ;  and  the  albatross 
and  penguin  also  frequent  this  locality.  The  hoarse 
voices  of  the  latter  make  a  diabolical  clatter  when  any 
number  of  them  become  excited. 

Whales  and  dolphins  are  found  in  this  ocean,  also 
seals  of  the  species  called  sea  elephants,  because  of 
their  monstrous  size ;  and  although  they  present  a 


THE  ANTARCTIC  REGION.  205 

formidable  appearance  when  enraged,  they  are  very 
easily  killed  by  the  hunter. 

The  explanation  of  the  colder  and  more  barren 
aspect  of  the  South  Pole  than  that  of  the  North,  is 
found  in  the  fact,  that  while  there  is  much  land, 
mountains,  hills,  and  forests  in  the  Arctic  country,  the 
predominance  of  ocean  in  the  Antarctic,  the  flatter 
inland  surface  of  country,  and  the  constant  detachment 
of  immense  bodies  of  ice,  and  its  continuous  falling  into 
the  sea,  keeps  the  temperature  down  to  a  remarkable 
degree  of  coldness ;  and  we  are  led  to  wonder,  if  in  the 
endless  changes  of  worlds  and  time,  in  the  planets  mov- 
ing from  east  to  west  and  from  north  to  south,  the 
future  of  the  poles  will  be  different  from  its  present. 
We  believe  it  may  be  so.  The  seasons  may  change  or 
soften  their  rigors  there,  and  some  Heaven-sent  bird  or 
messenger  will  bear  away  to  those  remote  and  forsaken 
countries  the  germs  of  a  new  existence.  Some  island 
sloughing  from  the  known  continents,  or  from  unknown 
ones  —  seed  strewn,  vigorous  and  adhesive  —  may  rest 
its  foot  upon  some  hidden  anchorage  and  become  the 
central  points  of  a  new  country. 

With  God  all  things  are  possible,  and  with  an  eye  of 
faith  glancing  down  the  coming  time,  we  believe  that 
science,  aided  by  divine  inspiration,  will  revel  in  dis- 
coveries undreamed  of  by  the  present  generation. 
With  exultant  foreknowledge,  we  cry  :  "  Speed  the  mind 
that  seeks  for  the  unspeakable  riches  of  God's  creation." 


206  BAFFIN'S   BAT  BT  MOONLIGHT. 


BAFFIN'S    BAY    BY    MOONLIGHT. 

[HE  cold,  silent  moon  looks  down  on  a  sea-like 
bay,  the  dark  waters  dotted  by  gigantic  ice- 
bergs and  an  immense  ice-pack,  which  lies  like 
a  barrier,  menacing  the  daring  mortal  who  would 

penetrate  to  the  secrets  of  the  north. 

No  cities  will  ever  dot  its  shores,  no  busy  hum  of 
cultivation,  trade  or  factory. 

The  discoverer  of  this  bay,  one  of  the  finest  in  the 
world,  was  William  Baffin. 

In  1612  he  had  made  a  voyage  with  Hall,  one  of 
the  men  who  had  been  employed  in  the  Danish  ex- 
pedition ;  and  that  voyage  is  remarkable  as  the  first 
on  record  in  which,  by  an  observation  of  the  heavenly 
bodies,  a  method  was  adopted  for  taking  the  longitude 
at  sea.  Baffin  had  also  made  a  voyage  to  Greenland 
previous  to  his  employment  by  the  company. 

It  was  in  1615  that  the  command  of  the  Discovery 
was  given  to  Bylot,  and  Baffin  appointed  as  his  mate. 
Being  far  the  better  educated  of  the  two,  he  seems  to 
have  really  directed  the  course  of  the  expedition  ;  and 
some  of  his  lunar  observations  on  the  occasion  were 
made  with  so  much  accuracy,  that,  two  centuries  later, 
they  called  forth  the  praise  of  Captain  Parry,  who 
always  held  Baffin  in  great  respect. 

No  very  particular  discovery  is  recorded  as  the 
result  of  this  voyage,  though  it  added,  perhaps,  a  good 
deal  to  the  general  knowledge  of  those  parts.  But 
next  year  the  same  ship  and  officers  were  again  sent 
out,  and  with  such  confident  anticipation  of  success 


BAFFIN'S   BAT  BT  MOONLIGHT.  2Oj 

that  they  were  ordered  to  bring  back  a  Japanese  on 
their  return. 

They  sailed  direct  for  Davis'  strait,  up  which  they 
continued  in  a  northerly  direction  until  they  came  to 
Cape  Dudley  Digges,  Whale  sound  and  Gary's  isles, 
in  the  very  north  of  what  has  since  been  called  Baffin's 
bay,  but  which  they  supposed,  as  it  now  proves  truly, 
to  be  open  sea.  Under  that  idea  they  were  constantly 
trying  to  make  their  way  westward,  though  fruitlessly, 
on  account  of  the  ice. 

In  July,  however,  this  began  to  melt  very  fast,  and 
they  continued  coasting  along  to  the  north  until  they 
came  to  an  island  to  which  they  gave  the  name  of  Hack- 
luyt,  after  Sir  Richard  Hackluyt,  the  first  compiler  of 
a  volume  of  voyages  ;  then  on  to  Smith's  sound,  at  the 
extreme  end  of  the  bay  ;  and  next  round  by  the  western 
side  to  Jones'  sound,  to  both  of  which  they  gave  the 
names. 

At  length  they  began  to  suspect  that  they  were  in 
a  great  bay,  and  not  in  the  open  sea  at  all,  and  their 
hopes  became  daily  less  and  less.  But  in  their  south- 
ward course  they  passed  another  great  inlet,  Sir  James 
Lancaster's  sound,  little  thinking  that  it  led  into  an 
open  strait,  for  it  was  barred  by  ice ;  nor  was  it  until 
Parry's  time  that  this  barrier  was  passed,  and  the  pas- 
sage to  the  open  ocean  this  way  discovered.  Coasting 
along  as  close  to  the  shore  as  they  could,  they  now 
pursued  their  way  down  the  western  side,  until,  arrived 
once  again  in  Davis'  strait,  they  came  to  Cumberland's 
island,  where  a  consultation  was  held,  in  which  it  was 
decided,  "  that  having  come  to  an  end  of  their  dis- 
covery, they  should  cross  to  the  coast  of  Greenland 
to  see  if  they  could  get  some  refreshments  for  their 
men." 


2o8  RUINS   OF  POMPEII. 

Accordingly  they  anchored  in  Cockin  sound,  so 
named  by  that  Hall  who  had  accompanied  the  Danish 
Admiral  Lindenau,  and  thence,  on  the  ist  of  August, 
they  steered  their  way  home. 

Little  more  is  known  of  the  after  life  of  Baffin, 
except  that  he  joined  in  the  British  attempt  to  expel 
the  Portuguese  from  the  Persian  gulf,  and  that  at  the 
siege  of  a  small  fort  near  Ormuz  he  was  killed. 

In  a  letter  to  one  of  the  gentlemen  who  sent  him 
out,  Baffin  speaks  of  the  "worst  being  now  known  con- 
cerning the  passage,"  and  declares  that  "  there  is  no 
passage  or  hope  of  a  passage  in  the  north  of  Davis' 
strait";  but  he  dwells  on  the  advantages  of  the  dis- 
coveries which  had  been  made  thereabouts,  and  of  the 
vast  numbers  of  whales  to  be  caught  in  those  seas. 


RUINS    OF    POMPEII. 

[O  alight  from  a  railway  train,  to  purchase  a  ticket 
of  admission,  to  negotiate  with  a  guide,  and 
then,  after  walking  a  couple  of  hundred  yards, 
to  find  oneself  transported  back  and  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  every-day  life  of  eighteen  cen- 
turies ago,  is  to  experience  a  sensation  which  no  subse- 
quent visiting  of  famous  relics  of  the  past  can  ever 
efface  from  the  mind.  An  ancient  ruin  is  but  a  heap 
of  stone,  whether  in  Mexico  or  in  Egypt.  The  massive 
blocks  of  Stonehenge  or  those  of  the  Ephesian  Temple 
of  Diana  mean  nothing  to  those  who,  from  their  knowl- 
edge and  imagination,  cannot  call  up  mental  pictures  of 


RUINS   OF  POMPEII.  2OQ 

the  circumstances  under  which  they  were  erected  ;  and 
it  requires  no  small  effort  on  the  part  of  even  those 
possessing  the  appreciative  faculty  to  exercise  it,  when 
a  locality  hitherto  surrounded  by  a  halo  of  romance, 
sentiment,  or  historical  interest,  is  for  the  first  time 
viewed  from  the  window  of  a  nineteenth-century  rail- 
way train.  Pompeii  is  perhaps  the  one  exception. 
Tourists  who  have  wearily  ascended  Pisa's  leaning 
tower  and  thought  of  nothing  but  the  steepness  of  the 
stairs,  or  who  have  "done"  the  Acropolis  at  Athens  at 
sunrise,  with  the  idea  of  breakfast  uppermost  in  their 
minds,  find  in  the  exhumed  city  an  interest  which  leaves 
no  room  for  such  incongruous  feelings.  It  is  the  inter- 
est which  attaches  to  all  things  personal,  the  same 
interest  which  induced  thousands  at  the  Centennial 
to  turn  their  backs  on  the  magnificent  Castellani  col- 
lection of  antiquities  and  linger  in  the  New  England 
kitchen. 

To  reach  Pompeii  from  Naples,  a  fifty-minutes  jour- 
ney by  the  railroad  which  skirts  the  bay  is  necessitated. 
The  line  cuts  through  the  great  lava  stream  of  1 794, 
over  two  thousand  feet  wide  and  forty  feet  thick,  at  the 
base  of  Vesuvius,  and  passes  a  number  of  little  villages, 
inhabited  (in  face  of  constant  danger  from  earthquake) 
on  account  of  the  great  fertility  of  the  soil.  On  reach- 
ing his  destination,  the  visitor  pays  a  small  admission 
fee,  and  enters  at  once  into  the  streets  of  the  ancient 
city. 

Pompeii  was  partly  destroyed  by  two  earthquakes 
in  the  year  63  A.D.  Its  inhabitants  were  still  engaged 
in  rebuilding  the  injured  portion,  when,  on  August  24, 
79,  a  great  eruption  of  Vesuvius  overwhelmed  the 
city  and  adjacent  towns  of  Herculaneum  and  Stabiae. 
So  sudden  was  the  outbreak  that  the  escape  of  the 

14 


X 

2IQ  XLV.YS    Or  POMP  Elf. 

people  was  prevented.  A  dense  cloud  of  black  smoke 
burst  forth  from  the  crater  and  settled  quickly  over  the 
town,  plunging  it  in  complete  darkness.  A  dense  rain 
of  thin  light  ashes  followed,  and  then  showers  of  hot 
stones,  mingled  with  masses  of  lava  giving  off  mephitic 
gases.  Meanwhile  great  rivers  of  black  lava  poured 
irresistibly  down  the  mountain  sides,  filling  the  streets 
and  cutting  off  the  exit  of  those  who  had  taken  refuge 
in  cellars ;  while  others,  who  were  attempting  to  leave 
the  city  by  the  gates,  were  blinded  by  the  drifting  ashes 
and  overcome  by  the  sulphurous  vapors.  For  three 
days  this  terrible  infliction  continued ;  and  then,  when 
the  smoke  dispersed,  where  once  was  a  beautiful  town 
was  but  an  arid  mass  of  ashes,  pumice-stone  and  hard- 
ened mud. 

Centuries  went  by.  The  rich  volcanic  soil  became 
covered  with  a  profusion  of  vegetation,  and  a  new  town 
sprung  up  over  the  buried  city,  only  to  be  destroyed  by 
earthquake  four  hundred  years  after  the  great  eruption. 
Pompeii  then  existed  only  in  tradition  ;  and  this  located 
the  lost  city  several  miles  from  the  uninhabited  plain 
under  which  it  was  eventually  discovered.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  last  century  the  finding  of  relics  in  the  vicinity 
induced  the  government  to  undertake  systematic  exca- 
vations. An  inscription  was  soon  unearthed  establish- 
ing the  fact  that  the  true  Pompeii  had  undoubtedly  been 
found ;  and  since  that  time  the  work  of  uncovering  the 
buildings  has  been  slowly  and  carefully  carried  on. 

Fortunately  the  material  which  chiefly  covered  the 
city  was  not  lava,  which  would  have  set  like  stone  after 
probably  burning  paintings  and  melting  objects  in 
metal,  but  a  fine,  light  ash,  which  insinuated  itself  into 
the  minutest  crevices,  and  even  through  porous  earthen- 
ware. The  writer  assisted  in  opening  a  large  wine  jar 


RUINS   OF  POMPEII.  211 

still  bearing  the  seals  placed  over  its  mouth  at  the  time 
of  filling.  The  white  ashes  had  replaced  the  wine,  and 
made  their  way  through  pottery  of  close  texture  and 
now  harder  than  stone.  Generally,  however,  the 
presence  of  the  ashes  has  proved  a  positive  advantage, 
because,  in  opening  a  street,  for  example,  they  are 
easily  dug  out  and  removed ;  while  by  packing  closely 
around  perishable  objects,  they  have  formed  perfect 
molds,  retaining  the  form  of  the  objects  after  the  same 
have  wholly  decayed  and  disappeared.  It  is  not  fre- 
quently that  articles  are  found  at  a  height  above  four 
feet  from  the  floor,  as  their  weight  naturally  carries 
them  downward  through  the  soft  mass  of  ashes.  The 
digging  is  therefore  rapidly  prosecuted  until  the  above 
uniform  level  is  attained.  Then  shovels  and  picks  are 
put  aside,  and  the  ashes  are  taken  out  by  handfuls,  each 
workman  carefully  crumbling  the  material  to  powder 
before  rejecting  it.  As  soon  as  the  experienced  eye  of 
any  worker  recognizes  the  indications  of  a  mold  being 
formed  in  the  ashes,  labor  near  that  point  is  stopped, 
and  tamping  irons  are  cautiously  inserted  to  make  two 
or  three  vents  in  the  cavity.  Then  liquid  plaster  is 
poured  in,  and  after  being  left  sufficiently  long  to 
harden,  the  ashes  are  taken  away  and  the  cast  removed. 
It  is  believed  that  of  the  inhabitants  of  Pompeii 
thousands  perished.  Many  hand  in  hand  groped  their 
way  through  the  streets,  and  so  escaped  to  the  open 
country.  At  the  chief  gate  there  stood  a  sentinel,  who 
sternly  kept  his  post  through  the  thunders  of  that 
dreadful  day.  He  died  in  harness.  Planted  in  his 
sentry  box,  he  covered  his  mouth  with  his  tunic,  and 
held  on  against  the  choking  and  sulphurous  shower. 
But  the  ashes  fell  and  fell,  and  finally  filled  the  box, 
and  buried  the  soldier  alive,  still  grasping  his  weapon 


212  RUINS   OF  POMPEII. 

in  one  hand  and  veiling  his  mouth  with  the  other. 
There,  after  ages  of  rest,  he  was  found  —  a  grisly 
skeleton  clutching  a  rusty  sword. 

Sad  discoveries  were  made  in  the  street  leading  to 
that  gate.  There  were  two  skeletons  locked  in  close 
embrace,  the  teeth  perfect,  indicating  youth  in  its 
prime :  skeletons  of  a  young  man  and  maid.  They 
had  fallen  together  in  their  flight,  and  death  had 
wedded  them.  There  was  a  mother  with  her  three 
children  hand  in  hand,  who  tried  vainly  to  outrun 
death.  Perhaps  the  mother  singly  might  have  done 
it,  but  she  could  not  leave  her  children.  Plenty  of 
food  for  sad  thought  is  furnished  in  remembering  that 
six  hundred  skeletons  have  been  already  exhumed  !  — 
many  in  such  positions  and  circumstances  as  to  sug- 
gest very  touching  episodes  accompanying  the  final 
catastrophe.  Of  the  family  of  Diomed,  seventeen 
persons  were  stifled  in  a  wine  cellar  well  stocked  with 
amphorae  of  wine,  some  of  which  bore  the  date  of  the 
vintage.  The  fugitives  in  their  agony  of  fear  stood  all 
huddled  in  a  corner.  One  swooning  girl  fell  forward 
on  to  the  bed  of  ashes  that  had  drifted  in.  She  left 
the  impress  of  her  bosom  in  the  drift  like  a  seal  in 
softened  wax. 

An  interesting  little  circumstance  is  connected  with 
one  of  these  houses.  The  skeleton  of  a  dove  was 
found  in  a  niche  overlooking  the  garden.  Like  the 
sentinel,  she  had  kept  to  her  post,  sat  on  her  nest 
through  all  the  storm,  and  from  beneath  her  was  taken 
the  egg  she  could  not  leave. 

The  shops  and  taverns  which  have  been  exhumed 
are  very  interesting  as  illustrating  the  domestic  life  of 
the  people.  Eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  a  baker,  hav- 
ing placed  his  loaves  in  the  oven,  had  closed  the  iron 


RUINS   OF  POMPEII.  2J~ 

door,  when  he  had  to  fly  for  his  life.  A  few  years  since 
the  batch  was  drawn.  The  loaves  are  jet  black  and  of 
stony  hardness ;  but  the  marks  of  the  baker's  fingers 
show  plainly  on  them.  In  an  eating-house  were  found 
raisins,  olives,  onions,  figs,  fish  cooked  in  oil,  and  other 
articles  of  food,  some  retaining  their  natural  appearance 
and  all  plainly  recognizable.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  a 
precisely  similar  mode  of  cookery  prevails  in  the  mod- 
ern Italian  villages  to  that  indicated  by  the  utensils  and 
prepared  food  found  in  Pompeii ;  and  in  some  instances 
vessels  have  been  found  which  might  at  the  present  day 
be  put  to  their  original  use,  as  they  differ  little  from 
those  now  employed.  In  one  eating-house,  for  instance, 
is  a  dresser  of  brick  work  in  which  are  large  metal  and 
earthenware  vessels  for  soup,  with  furnaces  to  keep  it 
warm  and  ladles  to  distribute  it,  precisely  as  are  used 
in  modern  restaurants.  Amphorae  of  wine  are  marked 
with  the  year  of  the  vintage,  the  characteristic  quality, 
and  the  name  of  the  wine  merchant  from  whom  they 
were  purchased.  Taverns  are  indicated  by  checkers 
on  the  door-post,  or  by  a  sign  painted  on  the  wall.  The 
streets  are  paved  with  solid  blocks  of  stone  worn  in 
deep  ruts  by  chariot  wheels ;  and  at  one  drinking 
fountain,  where  slaves  stooped  and  drank  from  the 
flowing  spout,  on  the  edge  of  the  trough  is  a  spot  worn 
smooth  by  the  pressure  of  the  many  hands  that  rested 
against  it. 

The  dwellings  for  the  most  part  are  small  and  low, 
few  exceeding  two  stories.  They  have  little  ornamenta- 
tion externally,  and  are  well  adapted  to  a  people  accus- 
tomed to  pass  most  of  the  day  in  the  open  air.  The 
upper  stories  being  of  wood,  with  flat  roofs,  were  speed- 
ily consumed ;  but  as  those  portions  of  the  house  were 
generally  used  as  store-rooms  or  apartments  for  serv- 


214 


RUINS   OF  POMPEII. 


ants,  their  loss  is  of  little  consequence.  The  ground 
apartments  have  escaped  serious  injury;  and  on  their 
walls  some  of  the  frescoes  appear  as  brilliant  as  if  re- 
cently painted. 

The  walls  of  the  city,  which  have  been  traced 
throughout  their  full  extent,  indicate  that  an  irregular, 
oval  area  of  about  two  miles  in  circumference  was  oc- 
cupied. It  has  generally  been  supposed  that  the  popu- 
lation was  from  20,000  to  50,00x3,  but  according  to 
Signer  Fiorelli,  the  general  superintendent  of  the 
excavations,  Pompeii  had  not  more  than  12,000  inhab- 
itants at  the  time  of  the  eruption.  Eight  gates  have 
been  discovered,  and  the  roads  outside  of  them  were 
lined  on  each  side  with  tombs  of  considerable  size  and 
architectural  pretension.  The  Street  of  Tombs,  before 
the  gateway  of  Herculaneum,  was  probably  the  principal 
burying-place  of  the  city  ;  but  the  sepulchral  monuments 
adorning  it  gave  evidence  of  the  refined  taste  and  great 
wealth  of  prominent  Pompeiians.  The  streets,  which 
for  the  most  part  run  in  regular  lines,  are  with  some 
exceptions  barely  wide  enough  to  admit  a  single 
vehicle.  The  widest  does  not  exceed  thirty  feet  in 
breadth,  and  few  exceed  twenty-two  feet.  Five  of  the 
main  streets  have  been  partially  or  wholly  traced  ;  and 
with  these  a  regular  system  of  minor  streets  appear  to 
have  been  connected.  These  thoroughfares,  with  a 
single  exception,  terminate  in  or  traverse  the  western 
quarter  of  the  city,  which  is  the  only  part  yet  com- 
pletely explored.  The  public  buildings  were  profusely 
decorated  structures,  and  included  temples  of  Jupiter, 
Mercury  and  Venus,  beside  two  theaters.  The  thermae, 
or  public  baths,  were  elegantly  adorned. 

The  most  important  paintings  and  objects  of  art  dis- 
covered by  excavation  have  been  deposited  in  the  Na- 


UNDER    THE  ICE.  2I_ 

tional  Museum,  at  Naples.  Until  recently,  the  excava- 
tions have  proceeded  slowly;  but  at  present  the  Italian 
Government  is  liberally  assisting  the  work.  The  space 
now  laid  bare  measures  about  670,000  square  feet,  or 
one-third  of  the  whole  area  occupied  by  the  city.  Signer 
Fiorelli  calculates  that,  making  the  excavations  on  an 
average  twenty-five  feet  deep,  and  employing  eighty- 
one  laborers  daily,  the  city  will  be  unearthed  in  1947. 


UNDER   THE    ICE. 

[HERE  was  no  braver  guide,  or  more  skillful 
hunter,  that  ever  sat  foot  upon  the  Matterhorn, 
or  crawled  over  the  dangerous  glaciers  of  Monte 
Rosa,  than  Ulric  Peterson.  He  was  a  man  of  im- 
mense strength  and  great  daring;  and  had  often 
tracked  the  wilderness  of  snow  when  those  who  followed 
the  same  calling  willingly  remained  in  their  cottages  in 
the  well-protected  villages.  He  laughed  at  his  compan- 
ions when  they  talked  of  danger ;  and  made  light  of  the 
fears  of  his  good  wife,  when  she  trembled  at  the  howling 
of  the  fierce  winds,  or  the  avalanche  of  snow,  that  now 
and  then  swept  down  with  irresistible  force  upon  the 
little  chalets.  With  well  spiked  shoes,  a  stout  alpen- 
stock, confidence  in  himself,  and  a  firm  and  fervent 
trust  in  God,  he  avowed  that  a  man  was  as  safe  upon 
the  topmost  cliffs  of  the  cloud-pierced  Matterhorn,  as 
in  the  brook-threaded  valley  of  Tourmanches.  But 
the  timid  heart  of  womanhood  could  not  look  upon 


216 


UNDER    THE   ICE. 


the  matter  in  the  same  light,  although  her  trust  in  the 
good  Lord  was  equally  strong ;  and  so,  when  she  saw 
him  take  down  his  trusty  rifle,  powder-horn,  and  heavily 
shod  iron  staff,  one  morning,  she  clung  to  him,  and 
begged  that  he  would  not  go  upon  the  mountains. 
"  There  is  every  sign  of  a  storm,"  she  said.  "  You 
know  how  terrible  they  are.  We  have  food  enough 
in  the  cottage.  Do  stay  at  home  with  the  little  ones." 

"  That  would  I,  wife,"  was  the  reply,  "if  I  had  not 
seen  an  ibex  as  I  was  coming  home  yesterday  evening. 
He  was  a  stout  old  fellow,  with  huge  horns ;  and  I 
fancied  he  was  almost  laughing  at  me  as  I  crept  around 
the  cliff  upon  which  he  was  standing." 

"  But,  Ulric,  think  of  the  storm  that  is  certainly 
coming!" 

"  I  have  been  in  many  a  one,  and  care  nothing 
for  them.  I  love  the  free  whistling  of  the  wind  upon 
the  mountain  tops,  and  the  whirling  of  the  feathery 
snow.  So,  good  wife,  get  me  something  to  eat.  I 
must  be  off  before  the  day  dawns." 

With  a  heavy  sigh,  the  woman  did  as  he  had  re- 
quested, and  with  his  fond  kiss  still  lingering  upon  her 
lips,  she  saw  him  climb  the  mountain  side  until  a  turn 
in  the  path  hid  him  from  her  view.  Then  she  sunk 
upon  her  knees  by  the  bedside  of  her  still  slumbering 
children,  and  committed  him  into  the  keeping  of  that 
God  who  had  thus  far  preserved  him-  in  the  midst  of 
every  danger.  Meantime,  Ulric  hastened  onward 
with  a  light  foot.  It  was  still  dark  in  the  valley; 
but  far  above  him  he  could  see  the  white  peak 
glittering  in  the  dim  light  of  the  morning,  and  the 
fast  paling  stars.  Higher  and  higher  he  climbed,  and 
soon  the  sun  arose,  shedding  its  rays  of  rosy  gold 
upon  the  icy  piles  and  making  them  flash  as  if 


UNDER    THE  ICE.  21  7 

builded  of  myriad  diamonds.  To  a  stranger  it  would 
have  been  a  dazzling  sight;  to  the  brave  hunter 
it  has  lost  something  of  its  charm  by  familiarity,  and 
he  pressed  onward  and  upward.  The  road  grew 
rough  and  difficult.  He  was  obliged  to  pick  his  way, 
to  clamber  up  steep  crags ;  but  at  last  he  reached  the 
edge  of  a  large  glacier.  He  sat  down  and  rested  for 
a  little  time,  satisfied  his  hunger,  examined  his  shoes 
and  the  point  of  his  alpenstock,  and  again  set  bravely 
forth,  leaping  the  yawning  chasms,  and  guarding 
against  the  treacherous  cracks. 

A  wall  of  polished  ice  arose  before  him,  and  he 
knew  that  he  would  have  to  scale  it  before  he  could 
get  within  shot  of  the  coveted  game.  With  great 
difficulty  it  was  accomplished  ;* and  finding  the  tracks 
of  the  ibex,  he  followed  them,  until  suddenly  turning 
a  ragged  point,  he  found  himself  within  easy  shot,  and 
in  an  instant  the  report  of  his  rifle  had  awakened  the 
echoes  of  the  mountains.  With  the  "thud"  of  the 
bullet  the  beast  sprang  forward,  but  its  tail  was  dropped, 
its  head  hanging  heavily  down,  its  gait  slow  and  step 
uncertain.  He  knew  that  the  whizzing  lead  had  reached 
its  mark ;  that  the  animal  would  soon  die ;  and  he 
paused  to  reload  his  rifle  before  he  followed  him.  "  I 
will  surprise  my  good  wife,"  he  thought,  "  by  returning 
sooner  than  she  expected,  and  I  will  have  a  hearty 
.laugh  at  the  cowards  who  dared  not  venture  from  their 
snug  cottages  for  fear  of  a  storm." 

With  a  smile  upon  his  lips,  he  hastened  to  where 
the  ibex  was  lying,  and  raised  it  in  his  arms.  Then, 
with  a  cry  of  horror,  he  felt  his  footing  give  way  —  and 
hunter  and  game  were  swallowed  up  in  a  crevasse  of 
almost  unfathomable  depth.  The  thin  covering  of  ice 
had  been  sufficiently  strong  to  bear  the  weight  of  the 


2l8  UNDER   THE  ICE. 

beast;  but  that  of  Ulric  added,  had  shivered  it  as 
if  it  had  been  an  egg-shell. 

Down,  down.  Hunter  and  ibex,  through  the  debris 
of  snow  and  ice,  lying  there  for  a  thousand  years.  He 
fancied  that  the  bottom  would  never  be  reached.  The 
most  profound  darkness  enveloped  him ;  his  hands 
could  clutch  nothing  but  dampness  —  but  chilling  flakes. 

Fortunately  the  carcass  of  the  beast  was  beneath 
him.  Yet,  for  all  that  safeguard,  he  lay  for  a  long  time 
insensible.  When  consciousness  returned,  another  day 
had  dawned,  and  its  golden  glories  had  found  their 
way  even  to  the  bottom  of  the  yawning  grave  in  which 
he  was  lying.  He  thought  upon  the  utter  helplessness 
of  his  situation  —  that  he  must  perish  from  cold  and 
hunger  —  of  the  lingering  tortures  he  would  be  forced  to 
endure,  before  death  came  to  put  an  end  to  his  misery, 
and  every  nerve  in  his  body  quivered  with  horror.  He 
looked  around  to  see  if  there  was  not  some  possible 
chance  of  escape.  On  either  side  smooth  ice  walls 
arose,  emitting  a  bluish  steel  glitter.  He  felt  that  he 
was  buried  alive  !  "  O  God  !  Why  was  I  not  instantly 
killed ! "  he  exclaimed,  in  the  agony  of  despair,  and 
then,  as  better  thoughts  swayed  him,  he  thanked  the 
Almighty,  with  whom  nothing  is  impossible,  for  his 
safety  thus  far,  and  prayed  to  Him  for  guidance  and 

J      T 

deliverance. 

His  next  thought  was  of  his  gun.  When  it  was 
found  that  he  did  not  return,  his  neighbors  would 
certainly  search  for  him,  and  by  firing  the  gun  he  could 
attract  their  attention.  Vain  hope !  Search  as  he 
would  he  could  find  nothing  of  it.  Even  if  he  had 
discovered  it,  it  would  have  been  useless,  for  his 
powder-horn  was  gone  as  well.  Over  and  over  he 
turned  the  snow —  down  deep  he  dug  into  it,  until  his 


UNDER    THE  ICE  2IO 

hands  burned  like  fire,  and  great  drops  of  perspiration 
rolled  from  his  forehead  —  until  his  arms  grew  stiff  and 
sore,  and  he  was  forced  to  give  up  the  useless  labor 
from  sheer  exhaustion.  With  his  back  against  the 
frozen  prison  walls,  he  looked  aloft,  and  saw  the  great 
vulture  sailing  upon  its  immense  and  tireless  wings 
around  the  mouth  of  the  chasm,  and  the  strong  man 
shuddered,  as  he  shook  his  fist  defiantly  and  murmured 
with  his  hoarse  voice :  "  Your  time  has  not  come  yet ! " 
He  thought  also  of  his  happy  home,  and  of  his  dear 
wife  and  children,  and  then,  naturally,  for  he  was  faint 
and  hungry,  he  thought  of  the  food  his  wife  had  pre- 
pared for  him.  Having  eaten  of  the  bread  and  goats- 
milk-cheese,  and  drank  of  the  little  bottle  of  wine 
(which,  strange  to  say,  had  remained  unbroken),  he 
reasoned  that  it  would  be  cowardly  to  lie  down  and 
die  without  an  effort,  and  he  remembered  the  goodness 
of  God,  and  once  more  fervently  implored  His  help. 
Then  a  bold  idea  came  to  him.  Why  might  he  not  cut 
his  way  through  the  solid  ice !  He  had  a  hatchet,  such 
as  his  class  never  travel  without.  Ah !  but  he  was 
forgetful  that  the  walls  might  be  hundreds  of  feet  thick, 
that  they  were  of  excessive  hardness,  and  would  soon 
render  blunt  both  hatchet  and  knife.  The  bright  hope 
that  had  been  born  within  him  was  darkened  by  no 
such  shadow.  For  the  time  being  he  knew  that  he  was 
safe,  he  was  accustomed  to  the  cold,  was  warmly  clad, 
could  use  the  skin  of  the  ibex  in  case  of  need,  and  its 
flesh  would  drive  away  the  wolves  of  starvation  for 
many  a  day.  A  brief  rest  and  he  began  the  task,  and 
toiled  faithfully  until  darkness  forced  him  to  stop.  A 
night  of  uneasy  rest,  a  breakfast  of  the  raw  flesh  of  the 
ibex,  and  he  resumed  his  labors.  Another  day  of  toil, 
and  he  again  stretched  himself  upon  the  skin  of  the 


22O  UNDER    THE   ICE. 

beast,  wrapping  it  around  him  as  much  as  was  possible, 
and  slept  long  and  heavily,  although  there  had  been  a 
sudden  fall  in  the  temperature,  and  it  was  now  excess- 
ively cold. 

For  four  days  he  toiled  thus,  his  only  food  the  raw 
and  frozen  flesh  of  the  ibex  ;  for  four  nights  he  slept 
within  the  hole  he  had  cut  away  in  the  thick  ice  walls, 
closing  up  the  entrance,  and  thus  obtaining  partial  shel- 
ter from  the  chilling  blasts,  and  once  he  heard  the  firing 
of  guns,  and  his  heart  beat  wildly  within  him.  He 
dropped  his  dulled  hatchet,  crawled  to  the  center  of  the 
chasm,  and  shouted  with  all  his  remaining  strength  — 
shouted  until  his  strained  voice  was  reduced  to  the  very 
ghost  of  a  hoarse  whisper.  He  knew  that  his  friends 
were  in  search  of  him  ;  imagined  that  he  could  hear 
his  name  called ;  could  do  nothing  to  attract  their 
attention  ;  and,  as  the  firing  grew  fainter  and  farther 
and  farther  away,  he  flung  himself  down,  weeping  and 
wringing  his  hands.  The  last  plank  to  which  he  had 
clung  had  been  shivered.  His  neighbors  and  friends 
had  come  and  gone.  They  would  never  search  that 
part  of  the  mountain  again.  None  would  ever  know 
of  his  fate.  He  was  buried  in  an  icy  tomb,  until  the 
last  trump  should  sound  and  hot  flashes  of  flame  dis- 
solve the  frost-work  around  him. 

With  his  mind  trembling  upon  the  verge  of  mad- 
ness, overpowered  by  sorrow,  crushed  by  bitter  agony, 
he  fell  back  insensible,  and  lay  for  a  long  time  upon 
the  cold,  damp  snow,  that  soon  must  be  his  winding- 
sheet.  The  black  vulture  flapped  its  wings  above  him, 
and  he  knew  nothing  of  it.  But  after  some  hours,  the 
hunter's  consciousness  returned,  though  he  was  far  too 
much  crushed,  in  body  and  soul,  to  resume  his  labors. 
He  crept  into  the  little  cavern  he  had  excavated  (would 


UNDER    THE  ICE.  22r 

it  not  be  to  him  a  tomb  ?)  and  gave  passionate  vent  to 
his  grief.  For  many  weary  hours  nothing  passed  his 
lips,  and  with  aching  head  and  fevered  brain,  with  trem- 
bling limbs  and  convulsive  sobs,  he  prayed  for  deliv- 
erance, if  by  no  other  hand,  at  least  the  skeleton  one 
of  death. 

It  was  rayless,  sunless,  starless,  darkness  in  the  ice 
cavern,  when  the  springs  of  his  life  again  became  capa- 
ble of  action  ;  he  was  ravenously  hungry,  and  arose  to 
satisfy  his  hunger  with  a  portion  of  the  ibex  he  had 
left  remaining  outside  in  the  chasm.  He  felt  around, 
but  could  discover  no  outlet.  Had  he  been  frozen 
in  —  shut  out  from  God's  blessed  sunshine  forever? 
Nothing  but  smooth  ice  met  his  burning  and  blistered 
fingers.  Then,  after  an  hour's  search,  he  found  a  soft 
spot,  and  instantly  solved  the  mystery ;  he  knew  there 
must  have  been  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  in  the  night,  and 
that  it  had  drifted  into  and  blocked  up  the  opening ; 
and  with  the  strength  of  despair  he  soon  dug  through. 
It  was  still  snowing  heavily ;  the  flakes  fell  like  great 
feathers  around  ;  and  he  drew  the  remnant  of  the  car- 
cass of  the  ibex  into  the  cave,  and  made  another  rude 
meal.  And  thus  refreshed  a  new  hope  was  born  within 
him  ;.  and  again  the  ice  walls  resounded  with  the  blows 
of  his  little  hatchet.  But  it  was  slow  work,  and  much 
of  the  time  was  taken  up  in  clearing  the  chips  from  the 
little  grotto. 

A  week  passed  —  a  week  of  the  most  severe  toil 
and  terrible  anxiety  —  and  yet  he  was  not  disheartened. 
His  trust  in  God  had  returned  ;  and  love  for  his  wife 
and  dependent  children  kept  alive  his  often  sinking 
heart.  He  was  yet  in  hopes  of  reaching  the  upper  air, 
of  seeing  his  dear  ones  again.  But  even  as  he  was 
thinking  thus,  with  something  of  his  old-time  cheerful- 


222  UNDER    THE  ICE. 

ness,  a  new  anxiety  took  possession  of  and  nearly  over- 
powered him.  The  carcass  of  the  ibex,  that  had  been 
the  innocent  cause  of  all  his  troubles,  was  picked  almost 
to  the  bones. 

With  dire  starvation  staring  him  in  the  face,  he 
bowed  his  head  and  wept  like  a  child.  Starvation,  that 
is  dreadful,  even  in  thought !  Starvation,  that  has  in 
it  more  of  horror  than  a  thousand  other  deaths  !  He 
could  almost  see  it  silently  approaching,  and  for  a  time 
despair  alone  had  possession  of  him.  Then  his  trust 
in  the  Supreme  Being  returned,  and  he  committed 
himself  unto  His  holy  keeping.  "  Heavenly  Father!" 
he  murmured  from  between  his  parched  and  black- 
ened lips,  "  it  is  Thy  hand  that  has  sustained  me  so 
far — has  saved  me  from  all  danger.  Thou  givest  food 
to  the  young  ravens,  and  markest  even  the  fall  of  the 
tiny  sparrow.  None  but  Thou  can  hear  or  help.  Hear 
my  prayer  ?  Save  me,  O  God  !  Save  me  ! " 

Something  of  sweet  consolation  came  with  the 
utterance  of  the  words,  and  he  lay  down  to  sleep 
more  tranquilly  than  he  had  done  for  many  previous 
nights.  Yet  it  was  only  to  be  awakened  by  a  new 
fear.  It  needed  no  seer  to  tell  him  that  the  fohn, 
or  hot  south  wind,  was  sweeping  over  the  glaciers 
and  snow-fields  of  the  high  Alps ;  and  that  the  rain 
was  falling  in  torrents,  and  the  enormous  blocks  of  ice 
melting  as  by  the  touch  of  fire.  The  cavern  he  had 
dug  with  infinite  labor  was  almost  breast-deep  with 
water,  and  it  was  rushing  in  with  all  the  swiftness  of 
a  mountain  torrent.  Instantly  he  was  wet  to  the  skin, 
and  stood  almost  paralyzed  with  terror.  Then  he 
breasted  his  way  out  into  the  chasm,  but  it  was  only 
to  return  again  as  quickly  as  possible.  Never  cataract 
raged  more  fiercely  than  the  surging  water  there.  Cut- 


UNDER    THE  ICE.  22- 

ting  little  niches  in  the  ice-wall,  he  climbed  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  water,  and  tremblingly  awaited  his  fate. 
The  waves  rose  rapidly  higher  and  higher.  He  had 
climbed  until  his  head  rested  against  the  top  of  the 
little  cave  — he  could  go  no  further.  And  yet  the 
waves  rolled  upward  around  him.  They  reached  his 
waist  — surged  higher  to  his  breast  — crept  to  his 
throat,  and,  despite  all  his  efforts,  began  to  trickle  into 
his  mouth.  In  another  moment  he  would  be  strangled 
by  them ;  his  hold  would  be  torn  away,  and  his  body 
dashed  hither  and  thither  against  the  sharp  points  of 
the  ice.  "O  God!  Save  me!  Save  me!"  burst  from 
him  in  the  terrible  agony  of  the  instant,  the  moment  of 
time  that  lay  between  him  and  death. 

A  noise  like  thunder  —  a  shivering  crash  —  re- 
sounded through  the  chasm.  It  appeared  as  if  the 
very  foundations  of  the  world  were  tottering  beneath 
him.  Now,  indeed,  he  felt  that  his  end  had  come. 
No  !  Terror  was  instantly  changed  to  rapture.  The 
water  rushed  out  of  the  cavern  with  the  most  amazing 
velocity ;  he  could  descend  and  stand  upon  the  bottom 
without  fear.  How  this  had  been  accomplished,  he 
was  forced  to  wait  until  the  morning  light  to  determine  ; 
and,  with  the  first  beams,  he  saw  a  great  fissure  had 
been  opened,  through  which  the  imprisoned  waters  had 
found  their  way  to  the  valley  below.  This  unlooked 
for  preservation  again  inspired  him  with  confidence  — 
rendered  more  firm  his  trust  in  God.  Through  that 
tunnel  he  saw  a  way  to  freedom.  It  was  small,  to  be 
sure,  but  he  could  enlarge  it,  and  he  worked  diligently, 
until  his  strength  utterly  failed.  The  ibex  was  entirely 
devoured.  He  had  split  the  bones  and  sucked  out  the 
marrow  ;  had  gnawed  them  over  and  over  again,  to 
appease  his  hunger.  For  two  days  he  had  not  tasted 


224     (  UNDER    THE  ICE. 

a  morsel  of  food.  The  hatchet  slipped  from  his  hand 
when  he  endeavored  to  strike  a  blow,  and  he  was  forced 
to  abandon  the  undertaking.  There  was  nothing  left 
him  now  but  to  die. 

Another  day  passed,  and  no  help  came.  He  lay 
crouched  in  a  corner  wishing  that  the  end  would  come, 
and  that  swiftly.  His  eyes  were  already  filmed  and  his 
heart  beat  faintly.  Then  a  strange  noise  aroused  him. 
He  looked  aloft  and  saw  a  chamois  vainly  striving  to- 
defend  itself  from  the  attack  of  two  old  vultures,  that 
were  striking  at  it  with  wing  and  beak.  It  was  an 
unequal  contest,  and  at  length  the  animal,  driven  to- 
desperation,  attempted  to  leap  the  broad  chasm.  The 
effort  was  a  noble  one,  but  it  failed  of  success.  The 
chamois  missed  its  footing  and  fell,  bruised  and  help- 
less, at  the  very  feet  of  the  starving  man.  In  an  instant 
his  knife  was  plunged  into  its  throat,  and  the  warm 
blood  was  drained  by  his  eager  lips.  This  gave  him 
new  life,  and  he  renewed  his  labor.  It  was  almost  an 
herculean  task.  More  than  once  he  fell  fainting  beside 
it.^  But  hope  was  very  strong  within  him.  Still  he 
would  have  utterly  failed  had  not  heaven  assisted  him. 

Again,  the  fohn  was  busy  at  its  work  of  destruction  ; 
again,  the  windows  of  heaven  were  opened  ;  and  the 
"  rains  descended,  and  the  floods  came,"  and  accom- 
plished more  in  a  single  night  than  his  hands  could 
have  done  in  months.  With  the  morning  light,  he 
crawled  through  the  now  large  tunnel;  but,  when  he 
reached  the  out  end,  found,  to  his  horror,  that  he  was 
on  the  top  of  a  mighty  precipice.  His  blood  boiled ; 
his  brain  seemed  on  fire ;  his  heart  beat  as  if  it  would 
break  through  ribs  and  flesh.  He  was,  if  possible, 
more  desperately  imprisoned  than  before.  How  was 
he  to  get  down  ?  Through  his  bewildered  mind  sud- 


THE   GREAT  MOUNTAINS.  22$ 

denly  flashed  the  thought  of  the  skins  of  the  ibex  and 
the  chamois,  and  he  was  not  long  in  making  a  rope  of 
them.  He  then  cut  a  deep  hole  in  the  ice,  drove  down 
his  alpenstock,  fastened  one  end  to  it,  and  swinging 
himself  off,  reached  the  bottom  in  safety. 

With  a  cry  of  joy  and  a  prayer  of  thankfulness,  he 
hastened  along  the  well  known  path ;  and  when  the 
bell  of  the  little  chapel  that  reared  its  gilded  cross  in 
the  Matter  Valley  was  tolling  for  the  evening  prayers, 
he  staggered  like  a  drunken  man  into  the  very  midst 
of  the  astonished  worshipers,  even  as  the  voice  of  the 
good  priest  was  repeating,  "  God  is  everywhere  with 
me ;  and  everywhere,  even  in  the  most  threatening 
dangers,  his  voice  speaks  to  me  in  tones  of  comfort, 
and  says,  '  Call  upon  me  in  the  day  of  trouble,  and  I 
will  deliver  thee,  and  thou  shalt  glorify  me ! '"  —  stag- 
gering toward  the  altar  to  kneel  beside  it,  he  fell  faint- 
ing into  the  arms  of  his  wife,  who  again  nursed  him 
to  health,  strength  and  manhood. 


THE   GREAT   MOUNTAINS. 

!HE  mountains  could  not  stand  for  a  day  unless 
they    were     formed    of     materials     altogether 
different     from     those     which     constitute     the 
lower  hills    and   the    surfaces  of  the  valleys.     A 
harder   substance   had  to  be  prepared   for   every 
mountain    chain,   yet    not    so    hard    but    that   it 
might  be  capable  of  crumbling  down  into  earth,  fit  to 
nourish  the  Alpine  forest  and  the  Alpine  flower;  not 
15 


226  THE   GREAT  MOUNTAINS. 

so  hard  but  that,  in  the  midst  of  the  utmost  majesty  of 
its  enthroned  strength,  there  should  be  seen  on  it  the 
seal  of  death,  and  the  writing  of  the  same  sentence  that 
had  gone  forth  against  the  human  frame,  "  Dust  thou 
art,  and  unto  dust  thou  shalt  return."  And  with  this 
perishable  substance  the  most  majestic  forms  were  to 
be  framed  that  were  consistent  with  the  safety  of  man  ; 
and  the  peak  was  to  be  lifted,  and  the  cliff  rent,  as 
high  and  as  steeply  as  possible,  in  order  yet  to  permit 
the  shepherd  to  feed  his  flocks  upon  the  slope,  and 
the  cottage  to  nestle  beneath  their  shadow. 

And  observe,  two  distinct  ends  were  to  be  accom- 
plished in  doing  this.  It  was,  indeed,  absolutely  neces- 
sary that  such  eminences  should  be  created,  in  order 
to  fit  the  earth  in  any  wise  for  human  habitation ; 
for  without  mountains  the  air  could  not  be  purified, 
nor  the  flowing  of  the  rivers  sustained,  and  the  earth 
must  have  become  for  the  most  part  desert  plain  or 
stagnant  marsh.  But  the  feeding  of  the  rivers,  and 
the  purifying  of  the  winds,  are  the  least  of  the  services 
appointed  to  the  hills.  To  fill  the  thirst  of  the  human 
heart  for  the  beauty  of  God's  working  —  to  startle  its 
lethargy  with  the  deep  and  pure  agitation  of  astonish- 
ment—  are  their  higher  missions.  They  are  as  a 
great  and  noble  architecture ;  first,  giving  shelter, 
comfort  and  rest ;  and  covered  also  with  mighty  sculp- 
ture and  painted  legend.  It  is  impossible  to  examine 
in  their  connected  system  the  features  of  even  the  most 
ordinary  mountain  scenery,  without  concluding  that  it 
has  been  prepared  in  order  to  unite,  as  far  as  possible, 
and  in  the  closest  compass,  every  means  of  delighting 
and  sanctifying  the  heart  of  man.  "As  far  as  possible" 
that  is,  as  far  as  is  consistent  with  the  fulfillment  of  the 
sentence  of  condemnation  on  the  whole  earth.  Death 


WETTERHORN  MOUNTAIN,  SWITZERLAND. 


228 


THE   GREAT  MOUNTAINS. 


must  be  upon  the  hills,  and  the  cruelty  of  the  tempest 
smite  them,  and  the  brier  and  thorn  spring  up  upon 
them ;  but  they  so  smite  as  to  bring  their  rocks 
into  the  fairest  forms,  and  so  spring  as  to  make  the 
very  desert  blossom  as  the  rose.  Inferior  hills  ordi- 
narily interrupt,  in  some  degree,  the  richness  of  the 
valleys  at  their  feet ;  the  gray  downs  of  southern  Eng- 
land, and  treeless  coteaux  of  central  France,  and  gray 
swells  of  Scottish  moor,  whatever  peculiar  charm  they 
may  possess  in  themselves,  are  at  least  destitute  of 
those  which  belong  to  the  woods  and  fields  of  the 
lowlands.  But  the  great  mountains  lift  the  lowlands 
on  their  sides.  Let  the  reader  imagine,  first,  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  most  varied  plain  of  some  richly  culti- 
vated country;  let  him  imagine  it  dark  with  graceful 
woods,  and  soft  with  deepest  pastures ;  let  him  fill  the 
space  of  it,  to  the  utmost  horizon,  with  innumerable 
and  changeful  incidents  of  scenery  and  life ;  leading 
pleasant  streamlets  through  its  meadows,  strewing 
clusters  of  cottages  beside  their  banks,  tracing  sweet 
footpaths  through  its  avenues,  and  animating  its  fields 
with  happy  flocks,  and  slow  wandering  spots  of  cattle  ; 
and  when  he  has  wearied  himself  with  endless  imagin- 
ing, and  left  no  space  without  some  loveliness  of  its 
own,  let  him  conceive  all  this  great  plain,  with  its  in- 
finite treasures  of  natural  beauty  and  happy  human 
life,  gathered  up  in  God's  hand  from  one  end  of  the 
horizon  to  the  other,  like  a  woven  garment,  and  shaken 
into  deep  falling  folds,  as  the  robes  droop  from  a  king's 
shoulders ;  all  its  bright  rivers  leaping  into  cataracts 
along  the  hollows  of  its  fall,  and  all  its  forests  rearing 
themselves  aslant  against  its  slopes,  as  a  rider  rears 
himself  back  when  his  horse  plunges  ;  and  all  its  vil- 
lages nestling  themselves  into  the  new  windings  of  its 


THE   GREAT  MOUNTAINS.  22O 

glens ;  and  all  its  pastures  thrown  into  steep  waves  of 
greensward,  dashed  with  dew  along  the  edges  of  their 
folds,  and  sweeping  down  into  endless  slopes,  with  a 
cloud  here  and  there  lying  quietly,  half  on  the  grass, 
half  in  the  air;  and  he  will  have  as  yet,  in  all  this 
lifted  world,  only  the  foundation  of  one  of  the  great 
Alps. 

They  seem  to  have  been  built  for  the  human  race, 
as  at  once  their  schools  and  cathedrals  ;  full  of  treasures 
of  illuminated  manuscript  for  the  scholar,  kindly  in 
simple  lessons  to  the  worker,  quiet  in  pale  cloisters  for 
the  thinker,  glorious  in  holiness  for  the  worshipers. 
And  of  these  great  cathedrals  of  the  earth,  with  their 
gates  of  rock,  pavements  of  cloud,  choirs  of  stream  and 
stone,  altars  of  snow,  and  vaults  of  purple,  traversed  by 
the  continual  stars  —  of  these,  as  we  have  seen,  it  was 
written,  nor  long  ago,  by  one  of  the  best  of  the  poor 
human  race  for  whom  it  was  built,  wondering  in  himself 
for  whom  their  Creator  coiild  have  made  them,  and 
thinking  to  have  entirely  discerned  the  divine  intent  in 
them —  "  They  are  inhabited  by  the  beasts." 

Mountains  are,  to  the  rest  of  the  body  of  the  earth, 
what  violent  muscular  action  is  to  the  body  of  man. 
The  muscles  and  tendons  of  its  anatomy,  are,  in  the 
mountains,  brought  out  with  fierce  and  convulsive 
energy,  full  of  expression,  passion,  and  strength  ;  the 
plains  and  the  lower  hills  are  the  repose  and  the  effort- 
less motion  of  the  frame,  when  its  muscles  lie  dormant 
and  concealed  beneath  the  lines  of  its  beauty,  yet  ruling 
those  lines  in  their  every  undulation.  This,  then,  is  the 
first  grand  principle  of  the  truth  of  the  earth.  The 
spirit  of  the  hills  is  action  ;  that  of  the  lowlands,  repose; 
and  between  these  there  is  to  be  found  every  variety  of 
motion  and  of  rest ;  from  the  inactive  plain  sleeping 


230 


THE   GREAT  MOUNTAINS. 


like  the  firmament,  with  cities  for  stars,  to  the  fiery 
peaks,  which,  with  heaving  bosoms  and  exulting  limbs, 
with  the  clouds  drifting  like  hair  from  their  bright  fore- 
heads, lift  up  their  Titan  hands  to  heaven,  saying,  "  I 
live  forever ! " 

Surrounded  by  sublimity  from  their  birth,  ever  drink- 
ing in  the  inspiration  of  grandeur,  and  reminded  on  every 
hand  of  the  weakness  of  man  and  of  the  omnipotence 
of  the  Creator,  is  it  any  wonder  that  the  Swiss  should  be 
as  noble,  as  devout  and  as  generous  as  they  are  ? 
Switzerland  is  nearly  all  mountains  and  lakes;  and 
chalets,  as  cottages  are  called,  are  built  in  narrow  passes 
two  or  three  thousand  feet  above  the  sea. 

The  mountain  tops  are  ever  covered  with  snow. 
The  solid  rocks  are  often  jagged  and  pinnacled.  The 
unceasing  action  of  cold  and  heat  —  the  frost  of  night 
and  the  sun's  rays  by  day — broke  piece  after  piece 
away  until  they  became  irregular.  The  steep  sides  and 
the  abrupt  descents  show  where  the  terrible  destructive 
avalanches  come  from.  The  snow  collects  —  rather  it 
falls  —  upon  the  summit,  catching  in  the  crevices  and 
lodging  on  the  projections.  The  sun's  heat  melts  the 
snow  until  its  weight  loosens  its  hold  upon  the  peak,  or 
breaks  the  restraining  rocks,  and  a  tremendous  mass  of 
snow  and  stone  goes  tumbling  and  crashing  down  until 
it  is  arrested  by  broader  projections  or  plunged  into  the 
valley  below. 

It  is  a  grand  sight  to  see  an  avalanche,  and  at  noon- 
time any  day  they  are  frequent.  A  faint  rumbling  noise 
is  heard  in  the  valley,  and  looking  up  one  sees  a  white 
cataract  of  snow  pouring  from  some  dizzy  height,  bound- 
ing over  one,  two  or  more  jutting  rocks,  and  finally 
lodging  in  some  abyss,  and  perhaps  it  tears  its  way 
down  to  the  mountain's  base  with  the  speed  of  the  wind, 


THE  GREAT  MOUNTAINS.  ,,t 

2.D  ' 

prostrating  trees,  sweeping  a  broad  path,  crushing  in 
dwellings,  and  loosening  huge  bowlders  which  follow  in 
the  wake  and  make  the  destruction  more  complete  and 
terrible. 

High  on  the  mountain  side  an  avalanche  which,  un- 
checked, could  bury  in  ruins  a  whole  village,  looks  but 
a  narrow  band  of  white,  and  its  awful  proportions  and 
power  are  not  appreciated  until  its  might  is  demon- 
strated in  the  valley. 

Snow  melted  by  the  sun,  and  pressed  beneath  the 
weight  of  the  latter  accessions,  forms  the  glaciers, —  those 
immense  seas  of  ice  —  carrying  upon  their  frozen  bil- 
lows great  masses  of  rock  wrenched  from  bordering 
cliffs.  The  tens  of  thousands  of  tons  of  snow  upon  the 
mountain  tops,  aided  alternately  by  frost  and  warmth, 
thrust,  at  times,  the  terminal,  or  end  of  the  glacier,  far 
down  into  the  green  and  fertile  valley,  while  from  an 
icy  cavern  flows  a  muddy  stream,  which  is  a  mere  brook 
or  river  according  to  the  size  of  the  glacier  or  the  time 
of  day.  The  smaller  glaciers,  which  rest  upon  the 
mountain  heights,  pour  forth  clear  streams  of  delightfully 
refreshing  water. 

The  cities  and  villages  of  Switzerland  are  located  in 
valleys  and  by  the  side  of  some  rivulet  fed  by  mountain 
streams,  or  on  the  shore  of  some  beautiful  lake  formed 
by  the  rivulets,  and  in  these  places  the  inhabitants  earn 
a  livelihood  by  making  the  watches  and  jewelry  so  cele- 
brated the  world  over,  and  by  manufacturing  silks, 
cloths,  laces,  etc.  But  the  sturdy  Swiss  of  history,  they 
whose  bravery  has  so  often  saved  their  own  and  even 
other  countries  from  invaders,  they  who  to-day  maintain 
the  distinct  characteristics  of  their  noble  ancestors  and 
caused  their  country  to  shine  as  a  guiding  light  upon  a 
mountain  top  to  the  other  nations  of  the  Old  World  — 


232 


LET    US  HAVE  MEN. 


they  the  intelligent,  upright,  conscientious,  just  peasants, 
belong  not  to  the  towns,  but  dwell  in  such  homes  as 
have  been  pictured  among  the  wild,  grand  mountains 
and  breathe  pure  invigorating  air,  removed  from  evil 
associations  and  influences,  their  eyes,  steps  and  minds 
directed  upward. 


LET    US    HAVE    MEN. 

,N  are  what  we  want  —  not  kings,  nobles, 
presidents,  governors,  office-holders,  nor  gen- 
tlemen merely — not  the  puny,  purse-proud 
specimens  of  humanity  that  strut  the  stage  of 
life  as  if  all  the  world  belonged  to  them  —  but 
men  in  every  sense  that  the  term  implies.  We  want 
firm  and  reliable  supports  at  the  head  of  our  country- 
men in  whom  our  people  can  repose  entire  confidence 
without  fear  that  their  national  honor  will  be  compro- 
mised, or  their  government  sink  into  the  quagmire  of 
disorder  and  confusion.  A  bad  code  of  laws  is  worse 
than  no  laws  at  all,  for  under  the  cloak  of  legality 
more  crimes  will  be  perpetrated  than  when  one  has 
nothing  but  his  own  sense  of  honor  to  direct  his  ac- 
tions. If  laws  are  not  to  deter  men  from  crime,  it  is 
better  not  to  establish  a  system  that  will  aid  them  in 
evil-doing.  The  naturally  bad  will  presume  upon  legal 
prerogatives  just  so  far  as  they  are  permitted. 

In  the  common  avocations  of  life,  in  our  schools,  in 
mechanical,  mercantile,  and  agricultural  pursuits,  we 
want  men  whose  integrity  of  purpose  is  so  strongly 


LET   US  HAVE   MEN.  2^_ 

stamped  upon  their  actions  that  one  cannot  mistake 
them.  Truth  and  integrity  we  hold  to  be  the  prime 
essence  of  the  true  man  ;  nothing  so  nearly  allies  him 
to  his  Creator.  Let  us  have  men  whose  souls  point 
them  to  something  beyond  mere  mercenary  attain- 
ments, with  wills  to  do  and  dare  the  most  perilous 
enterprise  for  the  accomplishment  of  a  noble  purpose, 
and  hearts  tempered  with  the  "  milk  of  human  kind- 
ness" that  never  ceases  to  flow  out  to  their  fellow- 
beings  in  penury  and  affliction.  It  is  such  as  these 
that  have  swayed  the  world  ever  since  the  beginning 
of  time.  Their  influence  is  mightier  than  a  scepter. 
They  win  their  way  direct  to  the  confidence  of  the 
masses,  who  become  their  willing  subjects.  Tyrants 
may  govern  the  physical  man,  but  they  can  never  con- 
trol the  other  elements  of  his  nature,  for  "  he  who 
overcomes  by  force  hath  overcome  but  half  his  foe." 
<l  Ah,  my  countrymen !  it  is  now  that  I  tremble  for 
you  ;  Edward  only  arms  our  citizens,  but  Philippa  con- 
quers hearts ! "  exclaimed  St.  Pierre,  when  that  noble 
queen  revoked  an  order  of  her  husband  for  the  execu- 
tion of  the  venerable  patriot  and  his  fellow-hostages. 

The  human  race  seems  to  have  been  much  altered 
since  the  Creator  first  made  man  in  his  own  image. 
When  we  look  upon  a  portion  of  the  present  genera- 
tion, and  see  instead  of  the  man  that  was  originally 
created,  with  fair  form  and  mind,  so  many  low,  grovel- 
ing creatures,  with  only  human  shapes,  we  can  but 
wonder  with  whose  image  they  are  stamped.  They 
seem  to  be  brutes  of  beastly  habits  and  instincts,  who 
do  not  deserve  the  name  they  bear. 

If  your  lot  is  the  most  abject  poverty,  your  home 
amid  the  wilds  of  Africa,  or  the  jungles  of  India,  and 
you  have  never  had  the  advantages  of  an  education  or 


2?  A  LET   US  HAVE  MEN. 

Christian  religion,  you  can  at  least  fulfill  the  purpose 
which  your  Master  designed  you  —  be  a  man.  It  is 
the  soul  that  makes  you  what  you  are.  All  else  is 
mere  outward  adornment  —  the  putting  on  of  apparel. 

Good-for-nothing  people  are  unfortunately  very  nu- 
merous. Even  when  they  are  children  they  show  signs 
of  their  nothingness.  They  like  play  but  they  detest 
work  and  study.  Thus  they  grow  up,  knowing  nothing 
and  learning  nothing,  unless  it  be  something  that  will 
do  them  no  good.  When  they  become  men  and  women 
they  hardly  know  how  to  get  a  living  honestly,  and  it 
is  quite  likely  that  they  will  try  to  get  one  dishonestly. 
They  constantly  complain  that  they  cannot  get  along, 
and  they  wonder  why  it  is.  There  is  really  nothing 
strange  about  it.  They  never  tried  to  learn  when  they 
were  young ;  they  have  always  shirked  work ;  they  are 
lazy,  and  now  find  it  easier  to  beg  or  steal  than  to  get 
an  honest  living  by  hard  work. 

A  man  who  does  nothing  is  a  mere  cipher.  He 
does  not  fulfill  the  obligations  for  which  he  was  sent 
into  the  world,  and  when  he  dies,  he  has  not  finished 
the  work  that  was  given  him  to  do.  He  is  a  mere 
blank  in  creation.  Some  are  born  with  riches  and 
honors  upon  their  heads.  But  does  it  follow  that  they 
have  nothing  to  do  in  their  career  through  life  ?  There 
are  certain  duties  for  every  one  to  perform.  Be  some- 
thing. Don't  live  a  hermit  and  die  unregretted. 


PENALTY  OF  GREATNESS.  335 


PENALTY  OF  GREATNESS. 


are  born  great  and  some  have  greatness 
thrust  upon  them  ;  but  however  acquired,  great- 
ness is  subject  to  heavy  prices  and  penalties.  One 
of  the  heaviest,  and  one  which  is  universally  at- 
tached to  greatness,  is  the  absolute  surrender  and 
sacrifice  to  privacy.  All  the  belongings  of  a  person 
occupying  a  prominent  position  are  made  public 
property.  His  home  and  furnishings,  his  garden  and 
stables,  are  laid  open  to  the  gaze  of  the  world  by 
Jenkins.  The  personal  appearance  of  his  wife  and 
children,  their  wardrobes,  habits,  employments,  accom- 
plishments and  manner  of  living  and  entertaining,  are 
minutely  described  by  the  same  indomitable  scribbler. 
All  his  idiosyncrasies,  foibles,  weaknesses  and  antipathies 
are  faithfully  reported.  Dexterous  interviewers  extract 
his  thoughts  and  opinions,  and  parade  them  in  the  press. 
His  parlor,  dining-room  and  bed-room  are  invaded,  in 
and  out  of  season,  by  Paul  Prys,  who  make  haste  to  re- 
late all  that  their  eyes  have  seen.  He  cannot  visit  his 
grandmother  or  purchase  a  rattle  for  his  youngest  born 
without  some  "enterprising  correspondent"  making 
note  of  it. 

Even  death  brings  him  no  privacy.  His  favorite 
article  of  food,  his  hours  of  sleep,  and  the  manner  in 
which  he  put  on  his  clothes,  are  described  and  pre- 
served in  weighty  volumes  for  the  curiosity  of  posterity. 
His  ashes  are  not  safe  from  a  thorough  raking  over. 
Witness  the  deluge  of  "  Byron  scandal  "  a  few  years 
ago.  In  politics,  not  merely  the  great,  but  also  the 
aspirants  for  greatness  must  pay  this  penalty  of  exposure 


236 


PEN  ALT  T  OF  GREATNESS. 


to  public  gaze.  It  is  more  burdensome  here  than  else- 
where, because  less  regard  is  had  for  truth  and  more 
malignity  is  manifested. 

The  nomination  of  a  man  to  public  office  is  the 
signal  for  venomous  assault.  His  private  affairs  are 
rudely  pried  into,  and  he  is  credited  with  much  he 
never  possessed  or  dreamed  of.  It  matters  little  that 
his  record  is  clear,  his  honor,  integrity  and  purity  of  life 
irreproachable.  If  nothing  evil  can  be  said  with  truth 
it  will  be  said  without.  Anything  to  beat  the  opposition 
candidate  is  the  motto  of  political  campaigns,  and  foul 
epithets  and  slander  are  the  stock  in  trade.  His  enemies 
drag  the  family  skeleton  from  his  closet  and  parade  it 
with  added  hideousness.  They  investigate  his  whole 
private  life  and  business,  and  misrepresent  his  deeds, 
distort  his  motives,  and  pervert  his  language.  They 
search  his  pedigree,  and  saddle  him  with  all  the  sins  of 
his  ancestors  and  relatives.  They  ridicule  his  pecu- 
liarities of  manner  and  dress  as  if  they  were  matters  of 
great  moment. 

Probably  another  century  of  civilization  will  be  nec- 
essary before  public  sentiment  will  hold  the  privacy  of 
prominent  persons  sacred  to  some  degree,  and  also  re- 
gard ridicule,  epithets  and  slander  as  illegitimate  and 
disgraceful  in  politics.  Until  then,  those  who  rise 
above  mediocrity  or  who  seek  to  serve  their  country, 
must  suffer  this  undeserved  penalty 


FERNANDO  DE  SOTO. 


FERNANDO    DE   SOTO. 

ERNANDO  DE  SOTO  was  born  at  Xeres 
de  los  Caballeros,  in  Estremadura,  a  province 
in  Spain,  in  the  year  1500.  He  came  of  a  noble 
but  reduced  family,  and  only  through  the  personal 
friendship  of  Davilla  —  afterward  governor  of 
Darien  —  was  he  enabled  to  spend  his  earlier 
years  in  a  university,  where  he  distinguished  him- 
self by  his  scholarly  habits  and  acquirements.  When 
he  was  nineteen  years  of  age  he  accompanied  Davilla 
to  America.  He  remained  in  this  man's  service  for 
several  years;  although  he  openly  disapproved  the 
governor's  oppressive  administration.  He  withdrew 
from  his  service  in  1528,  and  went  to  explore  the 
coast  of  Guatemala  and  Yucatan  for  seven  hundred 
miles,  in  search  of  the  strait  which  was  supposed  to 
connect  the  two  oceans.  By  special  request  of  Pizarro, 
in  1532,  De  Soto  joined  him  in  his  enterprise  for  con- 
quering Peru,  with  a  promise  of  being  appointed  second 
in  command.  In  1533  he  was  sent,  with  fifty  horses 
and  a  few  targeteers,  to  explore  the  highlands  of  Peru. 
Here  he  encountered  and  defeated  more  than  a  thou- 
sand Indians,  penetrated  through  a  pass  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  discovered  the  great  national  road  leading 
to  the  Peruvian  capital.  Pizarro  selected  him  to  visit 
the  Inca  as  ambassador.  After  Pizarro  had  captured 
the  Inca  by  treachery,  De  Soto  in  vain  entreated  him 
to  let  the  monarch  go  free.  De  Soto  distinguished 
himself  in  all  those  engagements  that  completed  the 
conquest  of  Peru,  and  was  the  hero  of  the  battle  in 
which  was  captured  the  metropolis,  Cuzco.  Soon  after 


238  FERNANDO   DE  SOTO. 

he  returned  to  Spain  with  a  fortune  of  $500,000,  met 
a  flattering  reception  from  the  emperor,  and  married 
the  daughter  of  Davilla.  In  1536,  there  being  a  belief 
that  Florida  was  a  new  El  Dorado  of  undiscovered 
riches,  De  Soto  proposed  to  the  emperor,  Charles  V, 
to  make  a  conquest  of  Florida  at  his  own  expense. 
Spanish  and  Portuguese  cavaliers  enrolled  themselves 
among  his  followers. 

With  six  hundred  men,  twenty  officers  and  twenty- 
four  ecclesiastics,  he  set  sail  from  San  Lucar  in  April, 
1538.  They  stopped  first  at  Cuba,  and  then  at  Havana, 
where  they  left  the  ladies  attached  to  the  expedition. 
They  then  crossed  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  anchored 
in  Spiritu  Santo  (Tampa  Bay),  May,  1539.  His  route 
lay  through  a  country  made  hostile  by  the  violence  of 
the  Spanish  invader,  Narvaez,  and  De  Soto  was  con- 
stantly deluded  by  Indians,  who  thought  it  best  to 
send  the  unwelcome  arrivals  as  far  off  as  possible  with 
fabulous  reports  of  gold  deposits  in  remote  sections  of 
the  country. 

In  July,  1539,  he  sent  back  his  ship  to  Havana.  He 
discovered  a  Spaniard  who  served  for  an  interpreter. 
That  first  winter  was  spent  in  the  country  of  the  Ap- 
palachians, east  of  Flint  river.  Directed  to  the  north- 
east, in  1540,  he  reached  the  Ogechu,  thence  proceeding 
to  the  south,  he  reached  the  Coosa,  and,  in  October,  the 
village  of  Marilla,  or  Mobile,  on  the  Alabama  river. 
Then  followed  the  fiercest  battle  ever  fought  between 
Europeans  and  North  American  Indians.  The  Spaniards 
lost  something  near  a  hundred  men,  and  the  Indians,  it 
was  reported,  over  two  thousand.  Ships  meanwhile 
arrived  at  Ochus  (Pensacola),  but  De  Soto  sent  them 
no  word  concerning  his  fortunes. 

The  second  winter  he  spent  with  the  Chickasaws ; 


DE  SOTO  IN  THE 
WILDERNESS. 


240 


FERNANDO   DE  SOTO. 


but  when,  in  the  spring,  he  attempted  to  make  them 
carry  his  baggage,  they  attacked  and  burned  his  camp 
and  the  village.  Forty  Spaniards  perished  in  the  flames 
by  reason  of  the  night  assault. 

Soon  after  they  began  their  march  to  the  northwest 
a  pestilential  fever  broke  out  among  them,  carrying  off 
about  a  score  of  men.  After  a  seven-days  toilsome 
march  through  forests  and  marshes  he  reached  the 
Mississippi.  He  spent  a  month  in  constructing  barges 
to  transport  his  army  across  the  river.  He  then  went 
north  to  Pacoha,  where  he  remained  for  about  a  month 
to  rest.  He  then  marched  northwest  until  he  reached 
the  highlands  of  White  river,  in  the  eastern  portion  of 
what  is  now  the  Indian  Territories.  He  then  proceeded 
south  by  the  hot  springs  of  Arkansas,  which  his  com- 
panions insisted  was  the  fabled  fountain  of  youth,  and 
made  his  third  winter  station  at  Antiamque,  on  the 
Washita  river. 

In  March  and  April  he  moved  south  again,  till  he 
came  to  the  Mississippi,  and  while  attempting  to  descend 
to  that  river  through  the  bayous  and  marshes  he  was 
seized  with  malignant  fever  and  died. 

His  soldiers  pronounced  his  eulogy;  the  priests 
chanted  the  first  requiem  ever  heard  echoing  over  that 
turbid  tide,  and  in  the  midnight  stillness,  with  his 
mantle  for  a  winding-sheet,  he  slipped  from  the  hands 
of  his  friends,  and  the  rolling  waves  parted  to  engulf 
him.  His  life,  his  dreams  of  gold  and  his  explorations 
were  alike  finished  by  the  Mississippi's  tide. 

It  would  take  a  large  volume  to  contain  a  record  of 
his  personal  adventures  and  deeds  of  valor,  as  with 
prancing  steeds  and  glistening  armor,  lance  and  shield, 
the  irresistible  cavalcade  swept  up  through  the  wilder- 
nesses of  Florida,  Georgia  and  Alabama,  and  over  the 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  241 

prairies  of  the  Great  West.  The  imposing  cavalcade, 
with  its  splendid  equipments,  must  have  been  an  aston- 
ishing spectacle  to  the  aborigines  of  the  wilderness 
country.  And,  after  the  bloody  conflicts,  De  Soto 
would  have  preferred  his  exploration  to  have  been 
peaceable.  When  before  him  rolled  sublimely  the 
mighty  flood  of  the  majestic  river,  it  was  hard  to  die ; 
but  his  name  and  his  memory  will  not  be  lost  from  the 
heart  of  mankind  while  heroic  deeds  and  dauntless 
daring  have  power  to  quicken  the  pulses  with  respect 
and  admiration  for  the  heroes  of  the  world. 


MICHAEL  ANGELO  BUONAROTTI. 

4 

;N  the  6th  of  March,  1474,  at  the  Castle  Caprese, 
in  Tuscany,  was  born  the  child  who  was  after- 
ward to  become  so  renowned.  Michael  Angelo 
was  noble  by  birth  ;  his  father  was  descended  from 
the  Counts  of  Canosa.  Probably  his  wealth  did 
not  equal  his  patrician  ancestry,  for  the  proud  noble- 
man sent  his  son  to  a  grammar  school  at  Florence.  A 
public  school  is  no  unusual  place  for  genius  to  develop 
itself,  and  here  it  was  that  Michael  Angelo's  soon  shone 
forth.  His  facility  in  sketching  —  a  talent  always  ap- 
preciated by  schoolboys  —  made  him  popular  among 
his  young  companions  ;  they  encouraged  him,  and  their 
praises  fostered  the  love  of  art  in  his  bosom.  This 
passion  for  drawing,  however,  was  pursued  in  secret ; 
for  his  father  used  all  his  efforts  to  discourage  the  boy, 
thinking,  poor  man  !  in  his  foolish  pride,  that  it  would 
16 


242 


MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


disgrace  the  noble  house  of  Canosa  to  produce  an 
artist!  He  did  not  know  that  but  for  that  great  artist 
his  ancient  house  would  have  been  forgotten  ;  and  that 
now  Michael  Angelo  is  remembered  for  his  genius,  not 
for  his  nobility. 

The  first  story  of  the  boy's  progress  in  art  is  told  of 
him  in  his  thirteenth  year.  He  borrowed  a  picture 
from  a  friend,  and  copied  it  with  such  exactitude  that 
it  could  hardly  be  distinguished  from  the  original.  A 
plan  for  a  boyish  deception  came  into  his  head :  he 
confided  the  secret  to  one  of  his  playfellows,  and  the 
two  boys,  with  grave  faces  and  many  thanks,  brought 
to  the  lender  not  his  own  picture,  but  Michael's  copy. 
He,  worthy  soul,  discovered  not  the  cheat  put  upon 
him,  and  was  restoring  with  perfect  composure  the 
fac-simile  to  the  place  of  the  original,  when  Michael's 
playfellow  could  resist  his  mirth  no  longer,  and  his 
irrepressible  laughter  revealed  the  jest.  This  story 
became  known  ;  his  undoubted  success  encouraged  the 
boy,  and  to  his  father's  horror,  he  declared  his  first 
resolution  to  be  an  artist. 

Most  likely  the  incident  of  the  borrowed  picture 
influenced  greatly  Michael's  future  life ;  for  in  his  four- 
teenth year  we  find  him  a  pupil  of  Domenico  Ghirlan- 
dajo,  one  of  the  best  painters  of  the  day,  and  who  had 
studied  under  Giotto.  Doubtless  it  was  only  after 
many  struggles  with  his  prejudiced  father  that  Michael 
Angelo  obtained  this  favor ;  but  when  gained,  he  prof- 
ited by  it  in  proportion  to  the  difficulty  with  which  he 
had  secured  it.  When  fifteen,  he  one  day  saw  a  figure 
on  his  master's  easel,  drawn  in  a  style  which  he  consid- 
ered far  from  perfect.  He  made  outlines  of  the  incor- 
rect portions  of  the  drawing  on  its  margin.  These 
outlines  were  far  superior  to  the  picture  itself;  and  his 


MICHAEL  ANGELO.  243 

own  consciousness  of  this,  and  a  mean  jealousy  unwor- 
thy of  the  noble  art  he  followed,  made  Ghirlandajo 
ever  after  strive  to  depress  and  injure  the  bold  and  tal- 
ented boy  who  had  dared  thus  openly  to  compete  with 
his  master. 

Michael  Angelo  remained  with  Ghirlandajo  only 
three  years,  during  which  time  his  improvement  was 
owing  to  his  own  exertions,  and  not  to  his  jealous  mas- 
ter, who  scarcely  ever  condescended  to  give  him  the 
least  instruction.  But  perseverance  often  fully  atones 
for  the  want  of  imparted  knowledge;  and  so  it  was 
with  Michael.  Before  he  left  the  studio  of  Ghirlandajo, 
he  had  availed  himself  of  permission  given  to  the  pupils 
of  Ghirlandajo,  by  Lorenzo  de  Medici,  to  study  in  an 
academy  which  that  wise  and  generous  nobleman  had 
instituted  for  the  advancement  of  sculpture.  Here 
Michael  still  continued  to  improve  himself,  and  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent  by 
his  beautiful  drawings.  The  academy  was  held,  like 
those  early  ones  of  ancient  Athens,  in  a  garden.  This 
garden  Lorenzo  supplied  with  beautiful  sculpture, 
chiefly  ancient  —  for  the  moderns  were  very  far  from 
perfection  until  Da  Vinci's  time  —  and  hither  the  good 
nobleman  often  walked  among  the  objects  of  his  taste 
and  delight,  supplied  by  his  own  munificent  hand,  or 
amused  himself  in  watching  the  progress  of  the  young 
artists  whom  he  had  invited  to  study  in  his  grounds,  with 
a  kindly  liberality  which  now,  alas !  exists  only  in  name. 

In  this  garden  of  art  the  young  Michael  Angelo  one 
day  saw  a  fellow-student  modeling  in  clay  —  a  branch 
of  instruction  then  very  uncommon.  He  felt  a  wish  to 
do  the  same,  and  attempted  an  imitation,  which  Lo- 
renzo, who  happened  to  pass  by,  praised  with  such 
warmth  that  the  young  artist  determined  to  try  his 


2^4  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

skill  in  marble.  He  beggeu  a  piece  of  broken  marble 
and  a  tool  from  some  workmen  who  were  employed  in 
ornamenting  the  palace,  and  cheerfully  and  eagerly  set 
to  work.  He  chose  as  his  model  a  mask  of  a  "  Laugh- 
ing Faun,"  which  was  lying  in  the  garden,  much  muti- 
lated by  time.  But  Michael  remedied  all  these  defects 
in  his  copy,  and  likewise  added  some  improvements 
from  his  own  powers  of  invention.  The  mask  was 
nearly  finished  when,  a  few  days  after,  Lorenzo  again 
visited  his  garden. 

"  This  is  wonderful  in  a  youth  like  you,"  cried  the 
delighted  nobleman.  He  examined  the  work,  com- 
pared it  with  the  original,  and  praised  the  several 
additions  which  Michael's  genius  had  prompted. 

"  But,"  said  this  acute  patron  and  lover  of  art,  with 
a  good-humored  smile,  "  there  is  one  thing  I  do  not 
quite  approve  of,  though  it  is  but  a  slight  fault  in  so 
good  a  work  —  you  have  restored  all  the  old  man's 
teeth  ;  whereas,  you  know,  a  person  of  that  age  has 
generally  some  wanting." 

The  young  man  acquiesced  in  this  sensible  remark  ; 
and  when  Lorenzo  had  departed,  he  broke  a  tooth  from 
the  upper  jaw  of  the  mask,  and  drilled  a  hole  in  the 
gum,  to  show  that  it  had  decayed  and  fallen  out  in 
course  of  nature.  On  Lorenzo's  next  visit  he  was  so 
delighted  with  the  ingenious  way  in  which  Michael 
Angelo  had  followed  up  his  patron's  hint,  that  he  gave 
the  young  artist  an  apartment  in  his  house;  made  him 
a  guest  at  his  table ;  introduced  him  to  the  noble, 
wealthy  and  learned  that  thronged  the  palace  of  the 
greatest  of  the  Medici ;  and,  in  short,  adopted  him  as 
his  own  son. 

When  only  seventeen,  Michael  Angelo  executed  for 
Lorenzo  a  basso-relievo  in  bronze ;  the  subject  was 


MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


245 


the  "  Battle  of  Centaurs."  When  very  old,  the  great 
painter  once  came  to  see  this  work  of  his  earlyi  youth, 
and  was  heard  to  say  that  he  regretted  that  he  had 
not  entirely  devoted  himself  to  sculpture.  His  next 
work  was  a  "  Sleeping  Cupid."  The  wise  of  that  age 
thought  it  impossible  for  modern  art  to  produce  any- 
thing equal  to  the  antique ;  and  they  were  not  far 
wrong,  for  Michael  Angelo  had  not  then  arisen.  So 
the  dealer  who  purchased  his  Cupid  had  the  cunning 
adroitness  to  stain  it  in  imitation  of  the  defacements 
of  time,  and  bury  it  in  a  vineyard.  He  afterward  pre- 
tended to  discover  it  by  accident,  and  sold  it  as  an 
antique  statue  to  Cardinal  San  Giorgio.  The  praise 
it  obtained  induced  him  to  reveal  the  secret ;  the 
deceived  public  generously  forgave  the  trick,  and  the 
artist  was  invited  to  Rome,  where  Pope  Julius  II 
commissioned  him  to  erect  a  mausoleum.  Michael's 
design  was  magnificent.  When  he  showed  it  to  the 
pope  his  holiness  inquired  the  cost  of  such  a  splendid 
work.  Michael  answered  that  it  would  amount  to  a 
hundred  thousand  crowns ;  and  the  pope  liberally  gave 
him  permission  to  expend  twice  that  sum.  The  mauso- 
leum was  commenced;  Pope  Julius  was  so  delighted 
with  it  that  he  had  a  covered  way  from  his  palace 
erected,  that  he  might  visit  the  artist  at  his  work 
incognito.  This  was  too  great  a  favor  not  to  excite 
the  envy  of  a  court.  Ill  words  and  unkind  slanders 
were  spoken  of  Michael.  They  reached  the  pope's  ear, 
as  it  was  intended,  and  he  visited  Buonarotti  no  more. 
Michael  came  to  the  Vatican,  which  had  been  at  all 
times  open  to  him,  but  it  was  not  so  now.  A  groom 
of  the  chamber  stopped  his  entrance. 

"  Do  you  know  to  whom  you  speak  ? "    asked  the 
indignant  painter. 


246  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

"  Perfectly  well,"  said  the  man  ;  "  and  I  only  do  my 
duty  in  obeying  the  orders  my  master  has  given." 

"  Then  tell  the  pope,"  replied  Michael,  "  if  he  wants 
me,  he  may  come  and  seek  me  elsewhere  himself." 

The  insulted  artist  returned  immediately  to  his 
house,  ordering  his  servants  to  sell  his  furniture  and 
follow  him  to  Florence  ;  and  he  left  Rome  that  very  night. 
Great  was  the  pope's  consternation.  Couriers  were 
immediately  sent  after  Michael.  But  it  was  too  late ; 
he  had  already  passed  the  boundary  of  the  pope's 
jurisdiction,  and  force  was  of  no  avail.  The  couriers 
reached  Florence,  and  delivered  the  pope's  letter. 
Michael's  answer  was  this :  "  I  have  been  expelled 
from  the  antechamber  of  your  holiness  without  merit- 
ing disgrace ;  therefore  I  have  left  Rome  to  preserve 
my  reputation.  I  will  not  return,  as  your  holiness 
commands.  If  I  have  been  deemed  worthless  one  day 
how  can  I  be  valued  the  next,  except  by  a  caprice  alike 
discreditable  to  the  one  who  shows  it,  and  the  one 
toward  whom  it  is  shown?" 

Julius  next  wrote  to  the  government  of  Florence, 
using  these  conciliatory  words  :  "  We  know  the  humor 
of  men  like  Michael  Angelo.  If  he  will  return,  we 
promise  that  none  shall  offend  him  or  interfere  with 
him,  and  he  shall  be  reinstated  in  our  apostolic  grace." 
But  Michael  was  inflexible.  Again  and  again  the 
pope  wrote,  and  still  this  proud  and  high-spirited  man 
refused  to  heed  him.  At  last  the  chief-magistrate  of 
Florence  became  alarmed.  He  sent  for  the  artist  and 
said,  "  You  have  treated  the  pope  as  the  king  of 
France  himself  would  not  have  dared.  We  cannot 
bring  him  to  war  against  the  state  on  your  account ; 
therefore  you  must  obey  his  will."  The  magistrate 
promised,  also,  if  Michael  feared  for  his  personal  safety, 


MICHAEL   ANGELO.  247 

to  send  him  as  ambassador  to  Rome,  in  which  case  his 
person  would  be  inviolable.  At  last  Michael  relented, 
and  met  the  pope  at  Bologna.  Julius  glanced  at  him 
with  displeasure,  and  did  not  for  some  time  deign  to 
speak.  At  last  he  said,  "  Instead  of  your  coming  to  us, 
you  seem  to  have  expected  that  we  should  wait  upon 
you." 

Michael  answered  with  a  slight  apology  for  his 
conduct,  which,  however,  was  so  haughtily  expressed, 
that  a  prelate,  who  had  introduced  him,  thought  it 
necessary  to  observe,  "  One  must  needs  make  allow^ 
ance  for  such  men,  who  are  ignorant  of  everything 
except  their  art." 

Wise  and  generous,  too,  was  the  pope's  indignant 
reply  to  this  speech.  He  turned  to  the  prelate  :  "  Fool- 
ish man  !  it  is  thou  who  hast  vilified  Michael  Angelo ; 
I  have  not.  He  is  a  man  of  genius,  and  thou  an 
ignorant  fellow.  Depart  from  my  sight  this  moment." 
And  the  contemner  of  art  was  forcibly  driven  from 
the  room. 

Michael  Angelo's  first  commission  after  this  was 
a  statue  of  Pope  Julius.  It  was  the  work  of  sixteen 
months,  and  worthy  of  Michael's  genius.  But  its 
fame  was  short :  in  a  popular  riot  this  statue  was 
thrown  down,  dragged  through  the  streets  and  broken 
to  pieces,  in  contempt  of  the  pontiff  whom  it  repre- 
sented. The  head  alone  was  preserved  by  the  Duke 
of  Ferrara.  After  Michael  had  completed  this  statue 
he  returned  to  Rome,  and  again  set  to  work  on  the 
mausoleum.  But  Julius  had  changed  his  mind,  and 
determined  to  build  the  Sistine  Chapel  to  the  memory 
of  his  uncle,  Sixtus  VI.  This  chapel  Michael  was  to 
adorn  with  fresco  paintings.  His  first  attempt  showed 
how  universal  were  his  powers  of  mind.  He  began 


248  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

to  paint  the  ceiling ;  but  the  only  scaffolding  which  the 
architect  Bramante  could  contrive  was  suspended  by 
ropes  passed  through  holes  in  the  roof.  Michael 
Angelo  asked  how  he  was  to  paint  a  ceiling  thus 
pierced  with  holes.  Bramante  could  arrange  no  other 
plan ;  and  Buonarotti  invented  some  machinery  so 
complete  that  the  carpenter  who  made  it,  under  his 
direction,  realized  a  large  fortune  through  Michael's 
generosity  in  allowing  him  to  profit  by  the  invention. 

In  twenty  months  the  frescoes  were  completed,  to  the 
delighted  wonder  of  his  friends,  and  the  envy  of  his 
enemies ;  all  being  the  work  of  Michael  Angelo's  own 
hand,  unassisted  by  any  one.  The  pope  had  almost 
daily  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  platform  to  watch  the 
artist's  progress;  and  by  his  persuasions  Michael  took 
down  the  scaffolding  almost  before  the  frescoes  were 
finished.  Crowds  of  the  learned  rushed  to  the  building 
to  see  this  wonderful  work.  But  when  the  pope  had 
gratified  his  impatience  by  viewing  the  painted  ceiling 
from  below,  he  began  to  wish  for  more  ornaments  on 
the  drapery  of  some  figures  —  more  gilding  and  show. 
But  Michael's  reproof  was  not  long  wanting. 

"  I  have  painted,"  said  he,  "  men  who  were  poor,  nor 
wished  for  riches  —  holy  men,  to  whom  gold  was  an 
object  of  contempt.  I  will  add  nothing." 

The  Sistine  Chapel  was  publicly  opened  on  All 
Saints  Day,  1512.  From  that  time  to  the  present, 
Michael  Angelo's  frescoes  have  been  acknowledged  the 
most  glorious  triumph  of  art  in  any  age.  They  consist 
of  a  series  of  colossal  paintings  descriptive  of  the  pro- 
gress of  the  Christian  religion,  from  the  creation  of  the 
world  until  the  last  judgment  of  all  men.  To  particu- 
larize them  is  impossible ;  and  their  praise  has  been  a 
universal  theme.  Most  of  them  are  painted  on  the 


MICHAEL   ANGELO.  2AQ 

arched  ceiling ;  and  it  is  said  that  many  figures  were 
executed  by  the  artist  lying  on  his  back  on  a  heap  of 
cushions  ;  this  being  the  only  position  in  which  he  could 
reach  them. 

Three  months  after  the  completion  of  the  Sistine 
Chapel,  Pope  Julius  died.  Leo  X,  who  succeeded  him, 
was  by  no  means  a  warm  friend  to  Michael  Angelo. 
But  his  fame  was  now  too  well  established  to  suffer 
from  this  lack  of  favor.  He  was  now  growing  old  ;  but 
his  energies  and  talents  were  unwearied.  Beside  that 
of  the  Sistine,  another  chapel  was  erected  called  the 
Paoline.  For  this  he  painted  two  pictures  —  the  "Con- 
version of  St.  Paul "  and  the  "  Crucifixion  of  St.  Peter." 
At  the  age  of  seventy-two  he  was  nominated  architect 
of  St.  Peter's.  This  magnificent  building,  the  grandest 
temple  in  Christendom,  was  the  design  and  erection  of 
Michael  Angelo.  It  was  the  work  of  many  years  and 
many  struggles.  The  artist  had  to  contend  with  the 
poverty  and  illiberality  of  his  patrons ;  and  once  they 
endeavored  to  displace  him.  He  had,  in  their  opin- 
ions, not  given  light  enough  to  the  church  in  one 
portion  of  it. 

"  Three  more  windows  will  be  placed  there,"  said 
Michael  Angelo. 

"  You  never  told  us  of  that  before,"  replied  a 
cardinal. 

"  Nor  will  I  be  accountable  to  you  for  declaring  all 
that  I  do,  or  intend  to  do,"  cried  the  high-spirited 
painter.  "  It  is  yours  to  provide  money  and  keep  off 
thieves  :  to  build  St.  Peter's  is  mine  ! " 

This  independent  speech  won  him  the  favor  of  the 
then  pope,  Julius  III.  From  this  time  he  placed  un- 
limited confidence  and  regard  in  the  artist,  often  saying 
that  should  Michael  Angelo  die  before  himself, his  body 


250 


MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


should  be  embalmed,  and  kept  in  the  palace,  that  his 
mortal  form  should  endure  as  long  as  his  works.  But 
Julius  died  in  1555  ;  and  his  successor,  Paul  IV,  insulted 
the  painter  by  wishing  to  reform  the  "  Last  Judgment " 
in  the  Sistine.  Michael  sent  this  message  in  answer: 
"  If  his  holiness  will  undertake  to  reform  mankind,  I 
will  engage  that  my  picture  shall  reform  itself." 

This  pope  plunged  Rome  into  war  and  bloodshed. 
Michael  Angelo,  then  eighty-two  years  of  age,  took 
refuge  in  a  monastery  until  these  perilous  times  were 
over.  It  was  with  regret  that  he  left  this  quiet  abode 
to  enter  again  on  the  turmoil  of  the  world.  He  lived 
until  the  age  of  eighty-nine,  and  then  died  peaceably 
and  calmly,  uttering  his  last  will  in  these  words  :  "  My 
soul  I  resign  to  God,  my  body  to  the  earth,  my  worldly 
goods  to  my  next  of  kin." 

Michael  Angelo's  countenance  was  like  his  mind — > 
full  of  noble  grandeur.  Straight  Greek  features,  a  high 
and  rather  projecting  forehead,  with  clustering  hair  and 
beard,  gave  his  portrait  a  character  of  sublimity  which 
is  like  his  works.  These  works  were  the  grandest 
in  conception  and  execution  that  mortal  man  could 
do  —  not  beautiful,  but  sublime.  It  is  often  a  reproach 
to  a  great  man  that  his  life  is  far  inferior  to  his  works ; 
but  Michael  Angelo  was  in  every  way  a  noble  and  good 
man,  not  winning,  but  austere,  in  his  virtue  and  sim- 
plicity of  character,  at  an  age  when  the  contrary  was 
most  in  fashion.  He  was  never  married,  and  used  to 
say  that  his  works  were  his  children,  who  must  bear  his 
name  to  posterity.  He  lived  in  study  and  seclusion, 
never  ceasing  to  seek  after  knowledge  throughout  his 
long  life.  In  his  old  age,  he  was  found  one  day  by 
Cardinal  Sarnite  walking  alone  in  the  ruins  of  the 
Coliseum.  The  cardinal  expressed  surprise.  "  I  go 


MICHAEL   ANGELO.  251 

yet  to  school,"  said  Michael,  "  that  I  may  continue 
to  learn." 

This  great  artist's  soul  was  full  of  high  principle  ;  he 
scorned  everything  mean  and  dishonorable.  His  dis- 
position was  generous,  and  many  a  kindness  did  he 
show  to  inferior  artists  and  others  who  needed  it. 
Sometimes  his  gifts  were  munificent.  To  his  old  servant, 
Urbino,  he  gave  two  thousand  crowns  :  a  donation  in 
those  days  considered  worthy  of  a  monarch.  This  man 
died  when  Michael  was  eighty-two,  and  his  aged  master 
remained  with  him  day  and  night  in  his  last  illness,  and 
afterward  wrote  this  of  him:  "  Urbino's  death  has 
been  a  heavy  loss  to  me,  yet  also  an  impressive  lesson 
of  the  grace  of  God ;  for  it  has  shown  me  that  he  who 
in  his  lifetime  comforted  me  in  the  enjoyment  of  life, 
dying,  has  taught  me  how  to  die  —  not  with  reluctance, 
but  even  with  a  desire  for  death." 

His  poems  were  numerous,  and  all  breathe  the  spirit 
of  purest  Christianity.  The  sternness  of  his  character 
won  little  affection  from  his  contemporaries,  yet  none 
ever  breathed  a  word  against  him.  The  fame  of  Michael 
Angelo's  works  will  live  forever,  and  with  that  his 
memory  as  a  truly  great  and  virtuous  man. 


PAUL   GUSTAVE  DO  RE. 


PAUL   GUSTAVE    DORE. 

\ AUL  GUSTAVE  DORE,  whose  likeness  we 
have  the  pleasure  of  presenting,  is  one  of  the 
greatest  living  artists  of  the  present  age.  He 
is  now  forty-six  years  old,  and  just  in  the  prime 
of  his  useful  life.  For  over  thirty  years  he  has 
devoted  himself  to  art,  and  produced  over  45,000 
designs,  and  among  them  many  of  the  finest  pictures 
in  existence ;  especially  may  this  be  said  of  his  biblical 
and  other  religious  illustrations. 

While  but  a  boy,  he  manifested  such  superior  taste 
in  art.  and  showed  such  a  love  for  drawing,  that  his 
father  indulged  the  passion,  and  sent  him  to  the 
lyceums  in  the  city  of  Strasburg,  France,  the  place  of 
his  birth,  and  before  reaching  the  age  of  twelve  he 
had  won  considerable  notoriety  from  the  lithographs 
he  produced.  Soon  after  he  went  to  Paris  to  com- 
plete his  education,  and  here,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  he 
brought  out  his  first  series  of  sketches,  "  Labors 
Herculese,"  and  since  that  year  (1848)  he  has  con- 
stantly delighted  the  lovers  of  art  in  both  Europe  and 
America  with  his  beautiful  productions. 

In  1853,  when  but  twenty  years  of  age,  he  began  to 
exhibit  oil  paintings,  and  among  the  first  were  "  Two 
Mothers,"  "Alsatian  Women,"  "A  Montebank  who  has 
Stolen  a  Child."  About  the  same  time  he  also  brought 
out  several  landscapes  which  have  held  a  high  position 
in  popular  favor.  Some  of  his  oil  paintings  are  very 
large.  "  Christ  Leaving  Prsetorium  "  measures  twenty 
by  thirty  feet. 


PAUL  GUSTAVE   DORE. 


254  THE  ROTHSCHILDS. 


THE   ROTHSCHILDS. 

T  is  said  that  the  house  of  Rothschild  controls 
four  hundred  million  dollars.  The  originator 
of  this  great  financial  house  was  one  Maier  An- 
chel,  or  Anselen,  born  about  1 743,  in  Frankfort-on- 
the-Main,  in  the  Jew's  Street.  At  that  time  — 
and  the  feeling  is  by  no  means  extinct  now  —  so 

strong  was  the  prejudice  against  the  Jewish  people 
that  social  and  business  usages  forbade  their  mingling 
with  their  so-called  Christian  neighbors. 

This  Maier  Anchel  was  intended  for  a  rabbi,  but  his 
taste  not  running  in  that  direction,  he  left  school  and 
began  trafficking  in  rare  coins  and  antiquities. 

At  the  age  of  thirty  he  was  married,  and  settled  as 
a  broker  on  his  own  account  in  Frankfort.  His  busi- 
ness continued  to  be  dealing  in  money,  gold,  silver, 
plate  and  antiquities.  Stocks  and  public  loans  were  in 
the  infancy  of  their  existence  ;  but  his  business  some- 
how was  very  prosperous,  and  in  1770  he  operated  in 
a  large  enough  way  to  be  termed  a  banker.  Merchants 
of  all  kinds  in  those  days  had  some  sign  or  insignia 
over  their  doors  which  interpreted  their  traffic  to  the 
stranger  or  questioning  eye.  Maier  Anselen,  or  An- 
chel, adopted  that  of  a  red  shield,  called  in  German 
roth  schild  (pronounced  rote  skilled),  and  he  soon 
came  to  be  spoken  of  collectively  with  his  sign,  as  — 
Rothschild.  Becoming  so  much  better  known  by  his 
sign  than  by  his  own  name,  he  adopted  it,  sinking  his 
own  cognomen  entirely. 

About  the  year  1801,  Rothschild,  as  we  shall  hence- 
forth call  him,  was  introduced  to  the  landgrave  of  Hesse 


THE  ROTHSCHILDS.  255 

Cassel,  who,  from  a  happy  incident  at  their  first  inter- 
view, chose  him  as  fiscal  agent.  In  1804,  Rothschild 
began  his  system  of  loaning  money  to  governments. 
When  Napoleon  won  the  battle  of  Jena,  the  landgrave, 
who  was  a  partisan  of  Prussia,  fled  from  his  dominions, 
first  placing  all  his  money  in  Rothschild's  hands.  This 
money  Rothschild  loaned  out,  as  governmental  emer- 
gencies required,  reaping  heavy  profits  from  these 
transactions.  The  landgrave's  money,  something  like 
the  sum  of  $1,250,003,  remained  in  Rothschild's 
possession  several  years,  and  by  this  means  was  laid 
the  corner-stone  of  the  vast  possessions  —  five  million 
dollars  —  which  the  founder  of  the  Rothschilds  left 
when  he  died.  From  his  five  sons,  Anselm,  Solomon, 
Nathan,  Charles  and  James,  it  is  said  he  exacted  an 
oath  upon  his  death-bed  that  they  would  keep  the  busi- 
ness intact,  extending  it  as  much  as  they  could,  but 
always  in  partnership,  so  that  the  world  would  only 
know  one  house  of  Rothschild.  The  oath  was  strictly 
kept,  with  the  exception  that  Nathan  proving  rather 
the  smartest,  he  became  virtually  the  head  of  the  house. 
Meanwhile  Nathan,  before  his  father's  death,  obtained 
permission  to  go  to  Manchester,  which  was  then  excit- 
edly entering  upon  the  cotton  business.  His  father 
advanced  him  $20,000,  with  which  capital  he  became 
money  lender  and  pawnbroker,  also  speculating  in  raw 
cottons  and  prints.  He  prospered  in  all  these  specula- 
tions, so  that  ere  long  his  $20,000  had  increased  to 
$200,000. 

Soon  after  this  he  left  Manchester  to  settle  in 
London,  thinking  that  money-lending  would  be  a  sure 
business  anywhere.  Eventually,  the  five  brothers  took 
possession  of  the  chief  centers  of  European  commerce. 
Anselm  remained  in  Frankfort;  Solomon  was  some- 


256  THE  ROTHSCHILDS. 

times  in  Berlin  and  sometimes  at  Vienna,  Charles  in 
Naples,  James  in  Paris,  and  Nathan  in  London. 

In  1806  Nathan  married  a  daughter  of  one  of  the 
richest  Jew  merchants  in  London.  In  1810  he  began 
to  trade  in  government  securities.  Without  the  aid 
of  railways  and  telegraphs,  he  devised  means  to  gain 
the  earliest  information  of  war  or  financial  movements 
of  those  governments  whose  paper  he  held.  He  had 
swift  row-boats  at  his  command,  and  he  also  trained 
carrier-doves  to  bring  him  messages. 

The  Rothschild  conscience  never  seemed  to  have 
any  scruples  as  to  the  means  used  to  accomplish  for 
them  monetary  successes.  Misrepresentation  of  the 
rise  and  fall  of  securities  was  often  resorted  to ;  and 
when  stocks  had  been  thrown  down,  they  purchased 
largely,  and  managed  again,  by  secret  agents,  to  bring 
them  up  to  the  highest  point,  when  they  sold  out  and 
threw  the  loss  upon  others.  So  the  right-minded  need 
not  envy  the  Rothschilds,  for  their  wealth  is  not 
builded  on  a  solid  foundation.  A  great  business 
capacity  is  one  thing,  and  a  gamester's  tricks  quite 
another. 

Numerous  anecdotes  are  related  of  Nathan,  the 
great  banker,  to  show  that  he  was  afraid  of  strangers 
if  anything  unusual  appeared  in  their  manner  toward 
him.  Sometimes  he  yelled  "  murder,"  and  brought  in 
a  host  of  clerks,  because  those  who  sought  an  inter- 
view with  him  stammered  or  shuffled  about  uneasily, 
daunted  by  the  august  presence  of  the  Jew.  From 
this  fact,  the  reader  will  find  that  too  much  money  is 
as  bothersome  in  some  ways  as  too  little  is  in  others. 

Each  brother  had  a  share  in  all  the  other  brothers' 
concerns  ;  in  this  way  they  braided  their  fortunes  and 
interests  together.  They  also  made  a  law  among  them- 


THE  ROTHSCHILDS. 


257 


selves  to  intermarry,  so  that  the  Rothschilds'  wealth 
should  remain  unbroken.  Poor  fools !  hoarding  their 
perishable  gold  behind  breastworks  of  clay,  their 
spiritual  vision  bounded  in  by  their  bank  accounts  — 
for  what  purpose?  Why  to  secure  silver  handles  to 
their  coffins  !  Oh,  thank  God,  my  reader,  if  there  are 
no  stacks  of  gold  and  piles  of  jewels  built  up  between 
your  eyes  and  the  light  streaming  down  from  that  near 
country,  where  gold  and  great  possessions  will  not  give 
us  peaceful  entrance. 

We  read  that  Baron  James  Rothschild  has  a  tend- 
ency for  display.  His  chateau,  his  grounds,  his  car- 
riages, his  plate,  his  festivities,  are  on  a  plan  of  fabu- 
lous extravagance.  His  pictures,  his  furniture,  and  the 
whole  appointments  of  his  establishment,  realize  almost 
the  "Arabian  Nights,"  or  a  fairy  tale. 

Death  will,  doubtless,  cause  a  struggle  to  loose  this 
man's  hold  of  earth  ;  but  he  who  holds  his  hands  open, 
so  that  whatever  falls  into  the  palms  may  as  easily 
pass  off  them,  shall  be  ready  to  seize  the  victor's  crown 
when  the  final  struggle  is  over. 

Let  every  person,  old  and  young,  remember  that 
"  the  earth  is  the  Lord's  and  the  fullness  thereof,"  and 
we  but  the  laborers  in  His  vineyard  —  the  stewards 
of  our  Creator's  riches ;  let  us  then  be  faithful  to  our 
trust,  accepting  patiently  our  humble  lot,  and,  perad- 
venture,  we  may  be  bidden  to  come  up  higher. 


258  JOHN  JACOB  AS  TOR. 


JOHN  JACOB  ASTOR. 

HE  father  of  John  Jacob  Astor  belonged  to  the 
village  of  Waldorf,  Duchy  of  Baden.     One  after 
the  other  of  John  Jacob's  brothers  left  the  Duchy 
of  Baden,  seeking  employment.     One  found  busi- 
ness in   London,  another  in  Germany ;  still  a  third 
in  New  York. 

After  his  mother's  death  and  the  installment  of  a 
stepmother,  John  Jacob,  we  may  imagine,  was  often 
lonesome  and  sick  of  home.  How  anxiously  the  boy 
awaited  the  arrival  of  letters  from  his  brothers  ;  indeed, 
it  is  told  on  good  authority  that  he  once  walked,  in  one 
day,  the  distance  of  forty-five  miles,  to  possess  himself 
of  one  of  these  precious  missives. 

It  would  seem  from  all  accounts  that  considerable 
attention  was  paid  to  his  education,  but  dreams  of 
America  haunted  the  boy's  sleeping  and  waking  hours. 
Just  after  our  country  had  arisen  from  the  scorching 
and  burning  fire  of  the  revolutionary  war,  like  a  phoe- 
nix from  its  ashy  bed,  the  young  man,  then  seventeen 
years  old,  with  all  his  worldly  possessions  on  his  back, 
and  two  dollars  in  his  pocket,  started  out  to  learn  what 
the  world  had  in  store  for  him. 

Later  in  life  he  used  to  relate  that,  seated  under  a 
tree  just  outside  of  Waldorf,  he  resolved  to  have  for 
his  words,  honesty  and  industry ;  and,  added  to  these, 
a  determination  never  to  gamble. 

He  engaged  to  work  his  passage  on  one  of  the  tim- 
ber-rafts cut  from  the  Black  Forest,  that  are  commonly 
rowed  down  the  Rhine  by  emigrants  who,  anxious  to 


JOHN  JACOB  AS  TOR.  259 

reach  the  coast,  are  thus  enabled  to  work  their  passage 
and  secure  a  small  sum  besides. 

Fourteen  days  of  hard  but  pleasant  labor,  and  the 
lad  found  himself  at  a  Dutch  seaport,  with  sufficient 
money  to  pay  his  passage  to  London,  where  he  was 
warmly  welcomed  by  his  brother,  who,  at  that  time, 
belonged  to  a  pianoforte  manufactory,  known  as  that 
of  Astor  &  Broadwood. 

Here  John  Jacob  strove  earnestly  to  acquaint  him- 
self with  the  English  language.  He  also  made  every 
effort  to  learn  the  nature  and  customs  of  the  people  of 
America,  where  he  was  still  determined  to  try  to  make 
his  fortune.  By  the  strictest  economy  —  by  rising  at 
daybreak,  by  living  with  great  frugality,  and  by  two 
years'  labor  in  his  brother's  place  of  business,  he  had 
saved  enough  to  carry  out  his  plans. 

In  November,  1783,  he  embarked  for  Baltimore, 
possessing  five  pounds  sterling  after  paying  his  pas- 
sage, and  with  seven  flutes  as  stock  in  trade  to  com- 
mence business  with. 

There  is  a  very  suggestive  anecdote  told  of  him  at 
this  time  of  life.  Being  a  steerage  passenger,  on  one 
occasion  venturing  upon  the  quarter-deck  the  captain 
roughly  ordered  him  forward.  Twenty  years  after,  this 
captain  commanded  a  fine  ship  owned  by  this  same 
steerage  passenger.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  John  Jacob 
softly  argued  to  his  employe  the  danger  of  insulting 
the  humblest  personage  in  our  free  land. 

Within  a  day's  sail  of  her  destined  port,  the  vessel 
containing  Astor  became  fastened  in  the  ice,  and  was 
delayed  two  months;  a  delay,  however,  that  was  the 
means  of  placing  him  on  the  road  to  fortune.  He 
formed  the  acquaintance  of  a  German  whose  life  and 
career,  as  narrated  by  himself,  proved  very  interesting 


26O  JOHN  JACOB  AS  TOR. 

to  the  Ice-bound  passenger.  He  had  emigrated  to 
America  a  few  years  before,  and  opened  a  traffic  with 
the  Indians  for  furs,  which  he  carried  to  England  and 
sold  to  great  advantage.  Investing  the  proceeds  in 
trinkets  and  goods  appreciated  by  the  tribes  of  red 
men,  he  was  about  to  enter  upon  the  trade  in  an  ex- 
tensive manner.  He  kindly  advised  Astor  to  embark 
in  the  undertaking,  and  instructed  him  in  the  art  of 
buying,  packing,  transporting  and  preserving  the  furs. 

In  March  the  ice  broke  up,  and  the  ship  came  into 
Baltimore,  from  which  place  Astor  and  his  German 
friend  traveled  in  company  to  New  York. 

John  Jacob  immediately  sought  his  brother,  who 
gave  him  a  cordial  greeting.  But  the  brother's  fortune 
was  not  sufficiently  prosperous  to  allow  him  to  estab- 
lish John  Jacob  in  business,  so  he  hired  out  in  the 
store  of  an  aged  and  benevolent  Quaker  for  a  mere 
pittance,  besides  his  board.  This  store  was  in  the  fur 
trade,  and  as  young  Astor  strictly  adhered  to  his  good 
resolutions  in  regard  to  moral  and  trustworthy  con- 
duct, it  was  not  long  before  his  employer  appreciated 
the  worth  of  his  assistant,  and  at  length  he  was  sent 
among  the  Indians  on  the  annual  tour  of  buying  furs. 
Here  he  evinced  a  peculiar  talent  and  was  successful. 
The  labor  was  severe,  the  journey  to  Montreal  having 
to  be  made  on  foot  or  in  canoes,  and  the  difficulties  in 
the  way  of  traffic  being  enormous. 

About  the  year  1 786  Astor  began  trade  for  himself. 
From  his  own  earnings,  and  with  his  brother's  aid,  he 
collected  a  few  hundred  dollars,  with  which  he  bought 
trinkets  and  set  up  a  little  store  in  Water  street.  He 
afterward  related  that  at  that  time,  as  he  passed  the 
grand  row  of  houses  on  Broadway,  he  resolved  that 
some  time  he  would  build  a  greater  house  than  any 


JOHN   JACOB  ASTOR.  26 1 

of  them.  The  "Astor  House  "  was  the  thoughts  de- 
veloped. 

His  confidence  in  himself  was  one  of  the  distinctive 
attributes  that  contributed  to  his  success.  He  did  his 
own  bargaining,  and  cared  for  his  own  wares.  He 
traveled  so  far  and  so  frequently  that  the  State  of 
New  York  was  as  thoroughly  known  to  him  as  a  map. 

As  soon  as  he  had  secured  a  number  of  bales  of 
furs  he  took  passage  in  a  ship  bound  for  England,  and 
then  conveyed  them  to  London,  where  he  not  only 
disposed  of  them  to  advantage  but  .established  a 
business  connection  that  was  of  great  advantage  to 
him.  He  kept  his  little  store  in  New  York  with  its 
dingy  sign.  In  1790  the  New  York  City  Directory 
contained  in  its  columns  the  following:  "Astor,  J.  J.,  fur 
trade,  40  Little  Dock." 

This  was  seven  years  after  his  arrival  in  this 
country.  About  this  time  Astor  married  a  woman  of 
sound  judgment  and  sterling  worth  of  character. 

Meeting  haps  and  mishaps,  Astor  still  journeyed  after 
peltries,  and  many  laughable  incidents  are  related  con- 
cerning broken  axles  and  miring  in  swamps,  and  mistak- 
ing routes  in  the  wilderness. 

Astor's  business  increased  rapidly,  and  in  1794  he 
owned  the  ship  which  carried  his  furs  to  London,  and 
in  which  he  occasionally  made  trips  himself.  He  now 
employed  others  to  bring  in  his  furs,  and  studied  com- 
mercial business  and  the  markets  of  Europe.  He  next 
commenced  trading  with  China,  which  steadily  grew 
until  it  reached  an  enormous  business.  That  business 
was  continued  for  twenty-seven  years.  China  was  an 
excellent  market  for  furs.  With  some  occasional  excep- 
tions his  outward  cargoes  were  harvests  of  profit  to  him. 
In  1800  he  was  worth  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars. 


262  '     JOHN  JACOB  AS  TOR. 

With  rare  good  judgment  he  purchased  lots  without 
or  within  the  city  limits.  He  foresaw  the  future  growth 
of  the  metropolis.  By  these  purchases  he  gained  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  dollars. 

In  1830  John  Jacob  retired  from  active  business,  and 
it  was  then  that  he  resolved  to  fulfill  the  promise  of  his 
youth,  and  build  in  Broadway  a  house  larger  and  costlier 
than  any  that  then  stood  there.  This  was  the  Astor 
House,  and  after  it  was  finished  he  gave  it  to  his  oldest 
son. 

Then  he  bethought  him  to  give  something  to  the 
city  which  had  been  his  home  since  he  was  a  penniless 
stranger.  He  advised  with  some  particular  friends  and 
his  son,  and  the  result  of  that  conference  was  the 
magnificent  Astor  Library.  It  contains  something  like 
135,000  volumes,  upon  every  conceivable  subject.  This 
is  a  better  monument  to  Mr.  Astor  than  a  bronze  or 
marble  one. 

In  1848  he  died,  aged  eighty-four  years.  He  left 
property  estimated  at  twenty  million  dollars. 

He  made  some  charitable  bequests.  One  of  fifty 
thousand  dollars  to  his  native  village  of  Waldorf.  This 
was  divided  into  several  portions  :  one  for  the  benefit  of 
emigrants ;  another  for  orphans  ;  still  another  for  the 
aged  and  blind. 

It  is  related  of  Mr.  Astor  that  he  was  very  close  in 
his  bargainings,  and  occasionally  "  stood  in  his  own 
light."  So,  too,  often  there  is  some  taint  of  moral  weak- 
ness in  the  most  wonderful  characters. 

His  son  William,  possessing  his  father's  shrewdness, 
illustrates  this  passage  of  Holy  Writ:  "  Unto  him  who 
hath  shall  be  given";  and,  doubtless,  the  remote  gen- 
erations of  Astors  will  be  rich  enough  from  the  increase 
alone  of  the  wonderful  property  accumulated  by  that 


GREELET'S  SPECIMENS.  363 

penniless  boy,  who,  sailing-  away  from  his  native  Wal- 
dorf, became  a  millionaire  in  America. 

We  believe  that,  as  the  test  of  true  greatness  in  the 
eye  of  the  Almighty  is  applied  to  His  creatures,  many  a 
man  and  woman  unknown  of  fame  "will  be  greater  in 
the  kingdom  of  .heaven  than  these  rich  men";  yet  it 
is  stimulating  to  the  energies  of  body  and  mind  to  read 
of  the  wonderful  financial  successes  of  these  young 
men,  who  proved  that  "where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a 
way  "  to  success. 


GREELEY'S  SPECIMENS. 

|NE  day,  while  scrambling  out  of  the  great  hole 
!  in  the  ground  near  the  Sun  office  which  the 
Tribune  people  have  filled  up  with  costly  brick 
and  granite,  as  a  monument  to  the  founder  of 
that  paper,  we  picked  up  a  piece  of  copper  ore. 
The  bit  of  green  rock  recalled  to  mind  an  amusing 
incident  in  the  life  of  the  late  Horace  Greeley.  It 
occurred  many  years  ago,  long  before  the  great  war 
was  begun,  and  before  the  great  philosopher  of  Spruce 
street  had  dreamed  of  being  the  democratic  candidate 
for  president. 

The  interior  third  story  editorial  room  on  Nassau 
street,  so  long  occupied  by  Mr.  Greeley,  had  become  ex- 
ceedingly dingy.  Its  furniture  was  in  the  last  stages  of 
dilapidation.  Various  propositions  to  improve  it  had 
been  vetoed  by  the  occupant,  who  feared  that  any  at- 
tempt at  a  change  would  derange  the  order  of  his  papers 
and  books  of  reference.  But  one  Saturday,  while  the 


264  GREELET'S   SPECIMENS. 

sage  was  chopping  wood  at  Chappaqua,  the  burly 
engineer,  Patrick  O'Rourke,  came  up  with  a  host  of 
helpers,  and  pretty  soon  had  everything  topsy-turvy. 
The  carpet  was  torn  up  by  the  roots  and  the  subsoil 
shoveled  out  from  under  it.  The  furniture  was  hustled 
aside,  the  walls  were  scraped  and  papered,  the  wood- 
work painted,  a  new  carpet  laid,  and  by  nightfall 
Patrick,  as  he  surveyed  the  wholesome  change,  congrat- 
ulated himself  on  the  wondrous  achievement. 

Next  day  Mr.  Greeley,  coming  in  fresh  from  the 
serene  influences  of  Dr.  Chapin's  sermon,  was  struck 
dumb  with  wonder  at  the  metamorphosis.  Without  a 
word  he  slumped  down  into  his  easy-chair  and  thrust 
his  feet  under  the  desk,  apparently  in  fine  mood  to  do 
justice  to  bleeding  Kansas,  or  castigate  the  rascally 
Free  Traders.  Hardly  had  he  touched  his  seat,  how- 
ever, when  he  sprang  up  as  though  stung,  and  pointing 
under  his  desk,  shrieked  in  his  squeakiest  tones : 

"  What thief  has  stolen  my  specimens  ;  w-h-e-r-e's 

my  specimens  ?  " 

The  people  from  the  outer  office  rushed  in  at  the 
row,  and  pretty  soon  Mr.  Greeley  was  apprised  that 
Patrick  O'Rourke  was  the  leader  of  the  vandals  who 
had  despoiled  his  sanctum. 

"Send  him  up  here!"  yelled  Horace,  "send  him 
up !" 

So  Patrick  was  summoned  from  the  vaults  of  the 
establishment,  where  he  was  engaged,  like  the  good 
Deacon  Smith's  wicked  partners,  in  getting  up  steam 
on  Sunday  for  Monday's  paper.  O'Rourke  came  in, 
expecting  to  be  complimented  for  his  thorough  work. 

Slowly  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead 
on  his  bare,  brawny  arm,  he  drew  up  to  the  editor, 
his  face  wreathed  in  smiling  anticipation.  But  the 


GREELET'S   SPECIMENS.  265 

sight  of  Horace's  angry  countenance  warned  poor 
Patrick  that  a  storm  was  imminent. 

"  What  is  it,  Mr.  Greeley  ?  "  he  mildly  queried. 

"  Pat,  where's  my  specimens  ?  "  screamed  Horace, 
pointing  to  the  vacant  spot  under  his  desk. 

"  Specimens,  Mr.  Greeley  ?  —  specimens  ?  "  meekly 
responded  Patrick. 

"  Yes,  the  specimens  I  kept  under  there ! "  said 
Horace. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Greeley,"  blurted  out  Patrick,  "  I  don't 
know  anything  about  yer  specimens  ;  but  if  ye  mane  that 
ould  type-box  full  of  rocks  ye  kep  there,  why  they  only 
littered  up  the  place,  and  I  threw  'em  into  the  street." 

"You  old  fool!"  screamed  Horace.  "Didn't  you 
know  that  box  of  specimens  was  all  I  had  to  show  for 
twenty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  copper  stocks  ?  "  and 
the  good  man  sank  hysterically  back  in  his  seat  to 
ponder  on  his  misfortune ;  while  poor  Pat,  thoroughly 
humbled,  hurried  out  to  recover  what  he  could  of  the 
lost  treasures.  He  succeeded  in  finding  some  of  them, 
and  put  them  in  the  cellar  for  safe  keeping. 

This  was  long,  long  ago,  and  here,  now,  is  a  solitary 
fragment  of  that  time  turning  up  under  the  laborer's 
mattock,  and  testifying  to  the  generous  nature  of  one 
who  might  have  been  a  Croesus  had  he  been  less 
credulous ;  who  might,  had  he  been  more  worldly- 
minded,  have  built  in  his  own  lifetime,  out  of  his  own 
hard-earned  wealth,  the  stately  structure  it  was  the 
dream  of  his  life  to  found,  but  whose  erection  he  was 
never  destined  to  witness.  The  dreamer  is  now  dust ; 
the  busy  life  but  a  recollection.  Of  that  great  fortune 
which  he  won  there  remains  to  his  children  but  a 
crumbling  fragment,  comparatively  as  inconsiderable 
as  that  bit  of  copper  ore. 


266  THE  SILENT  MONKS. 


THE    SILENT    MONKS. 

WAY  upon  the  hill  that  overlooks  Naples,  and 
just  under  the  grand  Castle  of  St.  Elmo,  stands 
the  Carthusian  monastery  of  San  Martino.  The 
monks  who  once  inhabited  the  glorious  palace  — 
for  it  is  nothing  less  —  were  men  of  noble  birth 
and  vast  fortune.  Founded  in  1329  by  Duke  Charles 
of  Calabria,  it  was  enriched  by  the  wealth  of  the  monks, 
and  the  church  is  now  one  of  the  most  magnificent  in 
Italy.  Agate,  jasper,  lapis  lazuli,  amethyst,  Egyptian 
granite,  and  fossil-wood,  together  with  marbles  of  every 
tint,  are  blended  in  mosaics  that  line  the  whole  edifice, 
and  the  carvings  are  so  rich  and  graceful  that  the  inte- 
riors of  some  of  the  chapels  seem  like  Eden  bowers 
transfixed  by  a  miracle  and  frozen  into  stone.  The 
decorations  of  the  high  altar,  since  despoiled  by  the 
French,  were  of  gold,  silver  and  bronze,  and  even  dia- 
monds were  set  in  its  exquisite  ornamentation.  There 
are  cloisters  of  white  marble,  gardens,  courts  and  bal- 
conies overhanging  the  city,  from  which  the  view  is 
indescribably  magnificent.  And  in  this  lovely  spot 
came  a  brotherhood  from  the  first  circles  of  society 
and  buried  themselves  in  this  gorgeous  tomb,  for  it 
was  little  else.  The  monks  took  a  vow  of  perpetual 
silence,  lived  apart,  ate  apart,  and  met  only  for  the 
unsocial  hours  of  prayer,  when  each  was  wrapped  in 
his  own  meditation  and  no  one  uttered  a  syllable. 
Each  of  the  little  cells  where  they  slept  had  a  small 
window  or  closet  for  communicating  with  one  of  the 
corridors,  and  into  this  closet  was  placed  the  frugal 
meal,  which  was  then  taken  into  the  cell  and  eaten  in 
solitude.  Every  quarter  of  an  hour  a  bell  struck  to 


268  CLEOPATRA. 

remind  the  listeners  that  they  were  so  much  nearer 
their  death.  In  the  garden  the  railings  are  ornamented 
with  marble  skulls,  and  the  only  sound  that  disturbed 
this  splendid  solitude  was  the  tread  of  sandaled  feet, 
the  rustle  of  long  white  robes,  or  the  clang  of  the  bell 
that  tolled  off  their  solemn  lives  in  brief  moments, 
that  yet  might  have  seemed  long  to  them.  These 
monks,  like  most  others,  have  been  driven  from  their 
retreat  and  all  their  treasures  were  confiscated  by 
Victor  Emanuel. 


CLEOPATRA. 

N  looking  at  the  life  of  Cleopatra  we  must  con- 
sider many  things.  We  must  go  to  different 
surroundings  and  different  influences  than  our 
own.  We  see  a  rich,  ill-regulated  nature  overflow- 
ing like  the  Nile  from  its  very  abundance,  and  we 
who  have  been  kept  in  decorous  channels  are  aston- 
ished at  its  lawless  outgoings.  But  we  must  con- 
template her  either  in  a  philosophic  manner,  or  regard 
her  with  disgust,  wonder  or  admiration,  according  to 
our  various  characteristics.  The  first  is  the  wisest 
method,  and  one  that  we  will  attempt. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  Ptolemy  Anletes,  and  born 
sixty-eight  years  before  Christ.  Divers  descriptions 
have  been  given  of  her  person.  We  prefer  that  which 
best  accords  with  her  character.  Her  lips  were  full,  top 
full,  and  not  exquisitely  modeled.  She  had  an  unequiv- 


CLEOPATRA. 


ocal  pug  nose.  Her  eyes  were  dark,  almond-shaped, 
and  with  a  glorious  midnight  beauty  of  their  own  when 
they  sparkled  with  merriment,  or  when  the  drooping 
lids  helped  to  darken  the  fathomless  depths  beneath. 
But  those  same  eyes  could  give  fierce,  cruel  glances, 
and  you  never  doubted  for  a  moment  that  their  owner 
could  use  swords  or  daggers  whenever  they  suited  her 
purpose.  Her  olive  complexion  was  well  set  off  by  her 
black  curling  hair,  whilst  on  her  cheeks  was  a  rich  glow, 
like  the  crimson  of  an  Egyptian  sunrise.  Her  form 
was  rounded  to  luxuriousness,  and  of  faultless  propor- 
tions. In  short,  her  beauty  was  of  a  kind  that  would 
bewilder,  fascinate  and  dazzle  the  beholder,  but  it 
would  not  call  forth  the  noblest  emotions  of  which  a 
man  ought  to  be  capable.  A  proud  woman  would  have 
felt  herself  inexpressibly  humbled  to  know  that  she 
could  only  enthrall  the  senses  of  an  earthly  lover.  A 
conscientious  woman  would  have  experienced  measure- 
less pain,  shame  and  remorse  had  she  returned  such  a 
passion  ;  but  Cleopatra,  although  possessed  of  a  gifted 
and  cultivated  mind,  besides  being  an  accomplished 
musician,  was  not  a  woman  to  shrink  from  the  grossest 
admiration. 

To  herself  and  younger  brother,  when  she  was  sev- 
enteen years  old,  was  given  the  Egyptian  crown.  To 
this  brother,  two  years  her  junior,  she  was  married,  after 
the  custom  of  the  country.  He  was  her  inferior  in 
mind  as  well  as  years,  and  the  pair  heartily  disliked  each 
other. 

There  is  no  hate  in  all  the  world  so  strong  as  that 
which  an  energetic,  unprincipled  wife  may  feel  for  a 
husband  to  whom  she  conceives  an  aversion.  Cleopatra 
shrank  from  his  touch  with  more  of  abhorrence  than 
from  a  serpent's.  She  shuddered  at  his  approach.  She 


2y0  CLEOPATRA. 

loathed  his  very  look  This  detestation  was  further 
increased  by  her  fear  of  him. 

The  people  in  those  times  had  an  antipathy  to  the 
rule  of  a  woman.  Her  husband  and  brother  sympa- 
thized with  these.  He  was  her  enemy, —  a  clog  to  her 
ambition.  He,  acting  under  his  advisers,  refused  to 
allow  her  a  share  in  the  administration  of  the  gov- 
ernment. Cleopatra  appealed  to  Caesar,  who  warmly 
espoused  her  cause.  Her  brother's  party  was  defeated 
in  battle  and  himself  killed.  Cleopatra  was  firmly 
seated  on  the  throne  of  Egypt,  and  did  not  hesitate 
to  accept  the  love  Caesar  proffered  her.  After  his 
death  Mark  Antony  took  his  place  in  her  doubtful 
affections. 

We  see  how  the  coarsening  influence  of  her  uncon- 
genial marriage  had  branded  her  heart,  and  produced  a 
roughening  effect  on  her  whole  character.  Besides,  she 
was  so  used  to  artful  dissimulation  from  those  around 
her,  that  she  gladly  welcomed  the  substance  of  an 
honest  attachment. 

In  those  times  men  loved  without  sentiment  or  deli- 
cacy, and  under  those  circumstances  we  cannot  rea- 
sonably expect  much  from  the  majority  of  women. 
Sooty  blackness  of  the  one  sex,  and  pearly  whiteness  of 
the  other,  although  it  sounds  prettily  enough  in  theory, 
is  impracticable  in  reality.  As  long  as  men  will  take 
great  moral  latitude  to  themselves,  there  will  always  be 
Cleopatras,  who  will  disdain  the  barriers  and  break 
through  the  rules  of  decorum  ;  while  those  women,  fit- 
ted by  nature,  habit  and  circumstances  for  a  more 
proper  life,  are  too  often  condemned  to  mourn  over  the 
infidelity  of  husbands,  or  bewail  the  infatuation  of  fa- 
thers and  brothers.  Not  until  men  shall  really  heed  that 
portion  of  the  eloquent  sermon  Christ  preached  from 


CLEOPA  TRA.  2  -  j 

the  mount,  which  reads  "  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart, 
for  they  shall  see  God,"  will  the  sum  of  human  happi- 
ness be  greatly  increased  or  virtue  properly  reverenced. 

We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Cleopatra  was  utterly 
heartless,  for  in  most  evil  persons  there  is  an  admixture 
of  good,  and  the  gratification  of  ambition  in  an  am- 
bitious nature  is  a  strong  cement  to  any  kind  of  affec- 
tion. 

It  was  Caesar's  potent  arm  that  kept  her  queen. 
Afterward  Antony  seemed  equally  powerful.  Then 
might  was  right.  The  men  of  that  age  were  cruel. 
Deeds  of  blood  were  not  uncommon,  and  we  are  less 
surprised  than  shocked  that  she  caused  her  surviving 
brother  and  sister  to  be  put  to  death  for  fear  they  might 
be  rivals  to  her  throne. 

But  the  fitful  fever  of  false,  cruel,  wicked  Cleopatra's 
life  was  drawing  to  a  close.  She  kept  Antony  by  her 
side  when  he  ought  to  have  been  in  the  field  of  battle. 
She  deserted  him  when  he  most  needed  her  aid.  Finally 
she  betrayed  him  to  his  enemies.  In  these  acts  are  all 
the  inconsistencies  of  a  jealous,  loving,  unprincipled 
woman.  To  appease  his  anger,  she  caused  it  to  be  re- 
ported to  him  that  she  was  dead.  On  hearing  this  he 
fell  on  his  sword  and  received  a  wound  that  soon 
proved  fatal.  She  sent  a  contradiction  to  the  false 
statement,  and  he  was  taken  to  her,  and  expired  in  her 
arms.  A  poor  compensation  for  the  loss  of  everything 
that  a  man  in  his  sober  senses  holds  dear ! 

She  was  at  last  in  the  power  of  Octavius  Csesar, 
whom  she  tried  to  fascinate.  But  he  scarcely  deigned 
a  glance  at  her  haggard  and  sorrowful  face  and  vo- 
luptuous form.  She  read  her  fate  in  his  cold,  averted 
look.  He  meant  that  she  should  be  led  in  triumph  be- 
fore his  car.  All  that  remained  in  her  of  womanhood 


NIGHTINGALE. 

rebelled  against  this.  She  recklessly  took  her  lot  in 
her  own  hands,  and  terminated  her  life,  either  by  poison 
or  by  the  bite  of  an  asp ;  it  is  not  known  which,  but 
is  commonly  believed  by  the  latter  means. 

With  her  ended  the  family  of  the  Ptolemies  in 
Egypt,  after  it  had  reigned  from  the  death  of  Alexander, 
two  hundred  and  ninety-four  years ;  for  Egypt,  after 
that,  was  reduced  to  a  Roman  province,  in  which 
dependence  it  remained  till  it  was  taken  from  them  by 
the  Saracens,  A.D.  641. 


THE   NIGHTINGALE. 

HE  name  of  this  bird  is  derived  from  the  Saxon 
niht,  night,  and   galan,  to  sing ;    or,  the  night- 
singer.      Antony   calls    Cleopatra   his   "  nightin- 
gale," and  says: 

"The  nightingale,  if  she  should  sing  by  day, 
When  every  goose  is  cackling,  would  be  thought 
No  better  a  musician  than  the  wren." 

This  charming  bird  may  be  traced  from  England, 
through  Germany,  Poland,  France,  Italy  and  Pales- 
tine. 

It  is  the  largest  of  all  the  warblers,  being  about 
seven  inches  in  length,  and  between  ten  and  eleven 
in  the  extent  of  its  wings.  The  upper  parts  are  of 
a  deep  yellowish-brown,  inclining  to  reddish-brown ; 
the  quills  and  greater  coverts  are  dusky  brown, 
with  reddish-brown  margin ;  the  tail  deep  reddish- 
brown,  and  very  slightly  forked ;  the  sides  of  the 


THE  NIGHTINGALE. 


273 


neck,  ear  coverts,  breast  and  flanks,  pale  ash-gray, 
passing*  into  grayish-white  on  the  throat  and  lower 
parts ;  an  obscure,  dusky  streak  going  from  the  gape 
down  the  side  of  the  neck,  and  into  the  gray  of 
the  breast.  The  colors  of  the  female  are  like  those 
of  the  male.  The  bill  is  wood-brown,  with  the  basal 
end  of  the  lower  mandible  pale  yellowish-brown ;  the 
tarsi  (which  are  long)  and  the  toes  are  of  the  same 
color. 

It  is  a  migratory  bird,  passing  the  winter  in  northern 
Africa,  but  in  the  summer  found  over  the  greater  part 
of  Europe,  even  to  Sweden  and  temperate  Russia.  It 
is  said  not  to  be  found  in  Great  Britain  north  of  the 
Tweed,  and  is  plentiful  in  some  parts  of  England  and 
is  never  heard  of  in  others.  The  writer  has  frequently 
listened  to  the  song  of  the  nightingale  in  different 
places  in  the  neighborhood  of  London,  and  in  its 
finest  voice  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  near  St.  Lawrence. 
It  is  found  in  Sussex,  Dorsetshire,  Somersetshire,  and 
in  the  eastern  part  of  Devonshire,  but  not  in  Cornwall. 
It  frequents  the  greater  part  of  Yorkshire,  but  is  un- 
known in  Lancashire,  though  it  has  been  heard  in 
Carlisle. 

Sir  John  Sinclair  endeavored  to  introduce  this  de- 
lightful songster  into  the  groves  of  Scotland,  exchang- 
ing the  eggs  of  robins  for  those  of  nightingales.  The 
young  birds  were  hatched  and  brought  up  by  their 
foster-parents ;  they  migrated  in  September,  their  usual 
time,  but  never  returned  to  the  place  of  their  birth. 
A  similar  experiment  was  made  at  Swansea  with  the 
same  result.  Enos  is  its  Welsh  name,  but  Wales  is  not 
known  to  possess  it.  Leyden  asks  : 

"Sweet  bird!   how  long  shall  Teviot's  maids  deplore 
Thy  song  unheard  along  the  woodland  shore  ?  " 

18 


274 


THE  NIGHTING-ALE. 


And  the  same  lament  may  arise  from  the  daughters 
of  Erin.  The  nightingale  begins  to  appear  in  the 
middle  of  France  about  the  first  week  in  April,  and 
in  England  a  week  or  ten  days  later.  The  males  first 
venture  across  the  channel,  disperse  themselves  over 
the  country,  resort  to  thick  hedges,  copses  and  planta- 
tions, pour  forth  their  songs  at  eve,  and  await  the 
arrival  of  their  mates,  which  is  sometimes  delayed 
beyond  a  few  days  by  cold  and  uncongenial  weather. 
Most  artfully  and  carefully  concealed  are  the  nests 
they  build.  Composed  externally  of  dried  leaves  and 
grass,  or  of  the  skeleton  leaves  which  strew  the  banks 
and  thick  bottoms  of  hedges,  the  little  dwelling  is 
lined  with  hair  and  soft  fibers.  Calculated  to  deceive 
the  eye,  it  is  placed  low  down  in  a  thick  bush,  or  lux- 
urious hedge,  among  intertangled  stems.  The  eggs, 
of  a  greenish-brown,  are  five  in  number. 

Nightingales  are  very  shy,  remaining  concealed  as 
much  as  possible  among  the  foliage.  Although  their 
song  is  heard  at  intervals  during  the  day,  it  excites  the 
greatest  admiration  on  quiet  evenings  an  hour  or  two 
after  sunset.  When  the  moon  is  nearly  full,  and  the 
weather  is  serene  and  still,  it  may  be  heard  till  mid- 
night, and  is  then  exceedingly  pleasing. 

Virgil  and  other  classical  poets,  from  the  melancholy 
character  of  part  of  its  song,  call  it  miser abile  carmen  ; 
though  it  would  seem  an  insult  to  modern  poets  to  hint 
that  the  song  of  the  nightingale  has  been  ever  esti- 
mated in  comparison  with  that  of  other  native  or 
foreign  birds,  some  have  gone  to  the  extreme  of  re- 
garding it  as  inferior  to  that  of  many  thrushes ;  its 
natural  song  is  certainly  very  sweet,  but  not  more  so, 
in  the  opinion  of  Audubon,  than  that  of  the  black- 
capped  warbler,  and  but  little,  if  at  all,  superior  to 


THE   NIGHTINGALE. 


2  76 


THE  NIGHTINGALE. 


that  of  the  woodlark ;  the  song  of  the  skylark  is  far 
more  spirited,  more  prolonged,  and  of  much  greater 
compass,  though  less  sweet  ;  the  notes  of  the  Ameri- 
can mocking-bird  are  very  much  sweeter,  more  varied, 
and  of  greater  compass,  power  and  duration ;  and 
many  birds,  which  naturally  have  no  song,  like  the 
bullfinch,  can  be  taught  to  sing  in  perfect  time  and 
tune,  which  the  nightingale  can  not.  But  take  it  as  a 
whole,  it  must  be  confessed  to  be  superior  at  least  to 
that  of  all  British  songsters. 

Isaac  Walton  observes  of  this  noted  song-bird : 
"He  that,  at  midnight,  when  the  very  laborers  sleep 
securely,  should  hear,  as  I  have  heard,  the  clear  air, 
the  sweet  descants,  the  natural  rising  and  falling,  the 
doubling  and  redoubling  of  her  voice,  might  well  be 
lifted  above  the  earth,  and  say,  Lord !  what  music  hast 
thou  provided  for  thy  saints  in  heaven,  when  thou 
affordest  bad  men  such  music  on  earth  \ " 

The  males  only  sing,  and,  like  other  migratory 
birds,  never  during  the  winter  in  cages,  and  not  until 
after  the  spring,  moult.  They  are  short-lived  in  cap- 
tivity frorh  being  kept  too  warm  and  from  improper 
food ;  this  should  be  chiefly  insects,  or  small  bits  of 
meat,  and  fruits. 

Dr.  Latham  states  that,  "  as  is  usual  with  the  mi- 
grating warblers,  the  male  remains  on  the  spot  to 
which  it  first  resorts,  attracting  the  female  by  its  song; 
and  if  by  accident  the  female  is  killed,  the  male,  which 
had  become  silent,  resumes  his  song,  and  will  continue 
to  sing  late  in  the  summer,  till  he  finds  another  mate, 
in  which  case  they  will  breed  at  a  later  season." 


FAIR  T-BELLS. 


FAIRY-BELLS. 

AM  sitting  alone  in  the  twilight,  watching  the 
flames  that  leap  and  play  among  the  coals  in  the 
grate.  A  deep  stillness  pervades  the  house.  It 
seems  like  an  enchanetd  castle,  and  the  flickering 
shadows  that  the  fire-light  throws  upon  the  wall  are 
spirits  striving  to  cast  a  spell  over  me.  Their  long 
arms  beckon  weirdly,  and  seem  to  clasp  one  another 
in  a  mystic  dance  ;  the  heavy  portiere  rustles  on  its  brass 
bar;  and  an  old  Indian  idol,  that  stands  in  an  opposite 
corner,  leers  at  me  with  its  sightless  eyes,  and  nods  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  I  am  in  the  secret."  On  the  mantel- 
piece above  me  is  a  stuffed  white  owl,  who  though  famil- 
iar to  me  from  childhood,  regards  me  to-night  with 
peculiar  solemnity,  and  the  eyes  of  the  great  moose- 
head  over  the  door  watch  me  pityingly.  Outside,  the 
wind  is  howling  and  moaning,  now  sending  a  blinding 
storm  of  snow  against  the  casement,  now  tapping  mys- 
teriously on  the  window  pane.  I  could  almost  swear 
that  some  one  was  hiding  behind  the  curtains,  the 
shadow  is  so  dark  there,  and  they  look  so  stiff  and  im- 
portant. What  is  that  plaintive  sigh  ?  Can  it  be  only 
the  wind  ?  And  why  does  that  bust  of  Shakspeare,  that 
rests  on  the  high  oak  book-case,  smile  in  a  mocking  man- 
ner, while  all  the  family  pictures  on  the  walls  are  whisper- 
ing together  ? 

Unconsciously  I  yield  to  the  magic  around  me,  and, 
sinking  back  in  my  arm-chair,  am  not  surprised  to  see 
the  owl  flap  her  wings  and,  with  a  .loud  "  tu-whit,"  soar 
high  into  the  air;  while  from  among  the  glowing  coals 
a  troop  of  gossamer-winged  little  fays  flutter  out  into 
the  room.  The  tall  book-case  grows  taller,  darker.  It 


278 


FAIRY-BELLS. 


is  no  longer  a  book-case,  but  a  grand  old  oak  tree.  The 
scene  has  changed,  and  I  am  in  a  forest.  Soft  moss 
covers  the  ground,  and  sunbeams  play  among  the 
branches  of  the  trees.  Magnificent  trees  they  are,  which 
have  probably  stood  there,  staunch  and  true,  for  many 
a  generation.  There  is  a  holy  calm  in  the  air,  like  the 
stillness  of  some  cathedral,  for  the  only  sound  is  the 
murmuring  of  a  woodland  brook,  and  the  shaking  of 
the  leaves  caused  by  the  quick  movements  of  the  squir- 
rels, who  are  busy  gathering  in  their  winter  supply  of 
nuts  and  acorns.  Suddenly  a  sob  breaks  upon  the  peace- 
ful quiet,  like  a  discordant  echo  ;  and,  looking  closer,  I 
see  a  boy  curled  up  at  the  foot  of  an  oak,  resting  against 
a  bundle  of  dry  sticks  and  weeping  bitterly.  He  is  not 
more  than  thirteen  years  old,  and  he  has  large,  mourn- 
ful, dark  eyes,  a  noble,  sensitive  face,  and  dark  hair  that 
curls  about  his  brow.  His  dress  marks  him  as  a  peasant, 
yet  his  intense  grief  betokens  a  finer  sensibility  than  is 
usually  found  among  that  class. 

The  squirrels  pause  a  moment  in  their  work  to  watch 
him  curiously,  and  from  the  recesses  of  the  forest  hasten 
the  same  band  of  fairies  whom  I  saw  spring  into  exist- 
ence in  the  dancing  fire-light.  They  glide  through  the 
air  with  a  delicious,  dreamy  movement,  while  their 
flame-colored  robes  of  airy  texture  gleam  in  the  sun- 
light, and  their  sparkling  wings  and  waving  hair  denote 
what  joyous  little  sprites  they  are.  They  cluster  won- 
deringly  around  the  weeping  boy  and  stroke  his  hair  and 
brush  their  downy  wings  over  his  cheeks  :  but  in  vain, 
for  he  can  neither  see  nor  feel  them.  Then  I  notice  that 
each  wears  a  shining  coronet  and  in  each  coronet  hangs 
a  miniature  bell,  pale  blue  in  color.  Gathering  in  a  ring, 
they  circle  round  and  round  the  boy,  advancing  and 
retreating  as  in  a  graceful  dance.  And  with  this  har- 


FAIRT-BELLS.  279 

mony  of  motion  comes  a  harmony  of  music,  for  the 
fairy-bells  ring  out  together  in  a  strain  of  the  most  ex- 
quisite, unearthly  music, — delicate,  tender  and  inexpress- 
ibly sweet.  Does  he  hear  it,  or  are  the  sounds  too  fine 
for  his  dull,  earthly  ears  ?  Yes,  he  does  hear  it.  He 
raises  his  head  and  a  divine  expression  of  comfort  steals 
over  his  face.  His  grief  is  lightened,  and  high  resolves 
and  noble  thoughts  are  rising  in  his  mind,  as  he  listens 
to  the  melody  which  floats  like  a  prayer  up  through  the 
blue  ether.  Fainter,  fainter  it  grows ;  and  finally  sinks 
into  silence,  and  the  fays,  with  glad  faces  and  antic  mirth, 
flutter  away  on  some  other  errand  of  mercy. 

Meanwhile  a  little  maiden,  who  can  scarcely  have 
seen  more  than  nine  summers,  is  skipping  down  the 
forest-path.  Her  golden  hair  falls  in  two  long  plaits 
to  her  waist,  and  the  round  white  cap  gives  her  rosy 
face  a  demure  expression  that  is  very  attractive.  Her 
blue  eyes  sparkle  with  health,  and  on  her  arm  hangs 
her  knittings  bag,  with  its  shining  needles  and  half- 
finished  stockings. 

"  Good  morning,  Karl  ! "  she  says  in  German  ;  "  see 
what  a  fine  bunch  of  wild  flowers  I  have  picked  to  take 
to  thy  mother  !  The  house-mother  has  carried  her  some 
broth  and  wheaten  cakes,  and  now  she  must  get  well. 
It  makes  me  sad  to  see  her  sick  and  lonely." 

Karl  has  risen  to  his  feet  and  responds  gratefully : 
"  Thou  art  heavenly  kind,  my  Gretchen.  Truly  the 
mother  is  better,  and  if  I  can  get  work  so  that  we  shall 
not  be  so  poor,  I  shall  be  happy  indeed.  But  I  must 
go  up  to  the  castle  with  a  message  for  the  steward. 
Good-by." 

"  Good-by,  Karl !  Don't  forget  to  carve  me  the  im- 
age of  the  Christ-child  that  thou  hast  promised  me." 

There  is  an  anxious  tone  in  her  voice,  and  he  hastens 


2  go  FAIR  r- BELLS. 

to  reply,  as  he  lays  one  hand  caressingly  on  her  shoul- 
der :  "  I  will  carve  thee  whatsoever  thou  wishest,  for  I 
love  thee,  little  Gretchen." 

"  And  I  love  thee,  Karl ! "  she  says  with  a  sunny 
smile ;  and,  rising  on  her  tiptoes,  she  puts  up  her  lips 
for  a  kiss,  and  then  trips  away  and  out  of  sight,  singing 
as  she  goes. 

Karl  watches  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  turns  reso- 
lutely and  trudges  off  in  the  opposite  direction.  As 
he  goes  the  forest  seems  to  recede,  and  I  can  see  him 
ascending  a  hillside  by  a  winding  road  that  leads  to  a 
stone  castle,  whose  towers  rise  proudly  above  the  sur- 
rounding hamlets.  Below,  a  river  flows  between  green 
banks,  brawling  over  the  pebbles  and  glistening  in  the 
sunlight  that  bathes  both  castle  and  river  in  its  warm 
light.  Laborers  are  at  work  in  the  fields  around,  and 
Karl  has  to  answer  numberless  greetings  as  he  passes 
on  his  way.  A  cheery  shout  of  "  Karl  !  Karl  Berger  ! " 
causes  him  to  look  back  and  see  a  large,  respectably 
dressed  man  toiling  up  the  hill  and  panting  for  breath. 
Around  him  hover  the  fairies,  urging  him  on  and  ring- 
ing their  tiny  bells  in  innocent  glee. 

"  Good-day,  Master  Forester !  Thou  art  somewhat 
warm,"  exclaims  the  boy  laughingly. 

"Warm!"  echoes  the  other.  "Himmel!  I  should 
think  so.  I  have  been  over  nearly  all  the  estate  to 
attend  to  the  baron's  last  order.  My  Gretchen  tells 
me  that  thou  art  wanting  work,  Karl.  Is  it  so  ?  Yes  ? 
Then  I  can  give  it  thee,  lad,  for  there  is  much  to  be 
done  now,  and  I  would  not  have  the  widow's  son  beg- 
ging his  bread.  Hush  !  say  no  more  about  it,  or  thank 
Gretchen  if  thou  wilt.  Look !  What  is  it  that  shines 
so  at  thy  feet  ?  " 

Karl  stoops  and  picks'  up  a  glittering  coin,  which  the 


FAIRY-BELLS. 


kindly  fays  have  dropped  in  his  path  ;  and,  as  he  does 
so,  he  hears  again  the  faint  music  of  the  fairy-bells. 
"  It  is  a  luck  penny  !"  he  exclaims  in  awe,  and  though 
the  forester  smiles  incredulously,  he  fastens  it  carefully 
in  his  neckerchief,  regarding  it  as  an  omen  of  happier 
days  from  the  gentle  influences  that  attend  his  fate. 
The  beneficent  sprites,  seeing  that  their  message  is 
understood,  fly  back  to  the  forest,  while  Karl  and  the 
forester  bow  low  to  a  young  lady  who  is  riding  by,  fol- 
lowed by  a  groom,  and  who  returns  their  salutations 
by  a  smile  and  a  playful  gesture  of  her  riding-whip. 
She  speaks  to  her  horse,  and  the  proud  animal  tosses 
back  his  mane  and  bursts  into  a  canter.  In  another 
moment  they  are  far  away,  the  girl's  dark  curls  and 
blue  riding-habit  fluttering  in  the  wind. 

14  Ma'amselle  fears  nothing  when  once  on  horse- 
back," says  the  forester,  looking  after  the  fast  retreat- 
ing figure.  "  She  has  a  true,  kind  heart,  though  she 
loves  her  own  will  right  well.  Ma'amselle  has  a  fancy 
for  my  wee  Gretchen,  and  often  has  her  at  the  castle, 
and  I  doubt  not  she'll  lend  thee  books  to  read  if  thou 
hast  a  taste  that  way,  Karl." 

So  talking,  they  enter  the  castle-gate  and  disappear. 
A  mist  gathers  over  the  scene,  shutting  out  castle,  field 
and  forest,  and  falling  lower,  lower  over  the  glancing 
water  till  that,  too,  is  hidden  from  sight  and  all  is  dark. 
Yet  in  the  darkness  I  can  hear  the  fairy-bells,  ringing  a 
strain  of  hope  and  peace,  and  finally  dying  away  in  the 
distance.  As  the  music  ceases,  the  clouds  part  and  I 
can  now  see  the  interior  of  a  home-like,  German  cottage. 
In  one  corner  of  the  room  are  fishing-rods,  a  gun  and 
a  hunter's  pouch  ;  while  from  the  rafters  overhead  hang 
bunches  of  fragrant  herbs,  and  over  the  door  is  a  horse- 
shoe, for  protection  against  evil  spirits.  The  sanded 


2g2  FAIRr-BELLS. 

floor,  the  shining  tins  hanging  upon  the  wall,  the  few 
rude  benches  and  wooden  table,  all  bear  token  of  com- 
fort and  cleanliness,  and  are  in  keeping  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  woman  who  sits  at  the  table,  knitting 
by  the  light  of  a  solitary  candle.  Near  it  is  a  young 
man  with  his  arms  crossed  before  him  on  the  table,  as 
he  reads  aloud  from  an  enormous  book. 

Can  that  tall,  broad-shouldered  young  fellow  be 
Karl  ?  Yes,  those  are  the  same  dark  curls  and  earnest 
eyes,  though  now  there  is  a  mingled  expression  of 
courage  and  self-reliance  in  his  face  that  was  wanting 
before.  The  mother  who  pauses  so  often  in  her  work 
to  look  at  him,  with  tender  love  and  contentment 
shining  in  her  eyes,  neither  understands  nor  listens 
to  what  he  reads,  but  when  he  closes  the  book  and, 
resting  his  head  on  his  hand,  falls  into  a  reverie,  she 
rises  and  bends  anxiously  over  him.  She  does  not 
see  the  fairy  visitors  who  are  hovering  around  him. 
She  does  not  hear  the  elfin  music  that  is  ringing  in 
his  ear.  She  strokes  the  dark  hair  with  the  mother- 
touch  that  is  always  gentle,  no  matter  how  rough  the 
hand  may  be,  and  Karl  answers  her  look  of  inquiry 
by  a  reassuring  smile.  Karl  no  longer  wonders  at 
the  fairy-bells.  He  has  grown  to  love  the  unknown 
music  that  consoles  him  when  he  is  sad,  rejoices  with 
him  in  his  joy,  and  sounds  "jangled  out  of  tune"  when 
he  does  wrong.  Bravely  and  well  has  he  labored  for 
his  widowed  mother,  and  the  happiness  that  pervades 
the  cottage  is  owing  to  him.  What  wonder  that  the 
fairy  guardians  smile,  well  pleased,  over  Karl,  as  they 
wing  their  flight  from  the  room  redolent  of  sweet 
home-love  out  into  the  summer  night ! 

Again  a  thick  mist  obscures  everything  from  my 
sight,  and  when  I  look  once  more  I  see  nothing  but 


FAIR  T-  BELLS.  2  g  , 

the  village  church  with  its  spire  pointing  heavenward. 
Inside,  the  pastor  is  waiting,  book  in  hand,  while  the 
sunshine  that  pours  through  the  open  window  sheds 
a  halo  over  his  silver  hair.  Slowly  up  the  central  aisle 
advances  a  simple  wedding  procession.  First  comes 
the  bride,  attired  in  gala  dress.  Her  flaxen  hair  falls 
in  two  long  braids  to  her  waist ;  her  blue  eyes  sparkle 
with  happiness,  and  her  innocent,  trusting  face  recalls 
the  little  maiden  I  saw  in  the  forest.  Yes,  it  is 
Gretchen,  though  now  she  is  eighteen  instead  of  nine, 
and  beside  her  walks  Karl,  holding  her  hand  and  look- 
ing as  if  he  thought  it  all  a  dream.  Next  come  the 
forester  and  his  wife,  and  Frau  Berger.  Peasants  fol- 
low, carrying  flowers,  and  among  them  is  the  baron 
with  his  daughter,  who  glances  about  her  with  kindly- 
interest.  The  solemn  tones  of  the  pastor  fall  on  my 
ear  as  he  reads  the  service,  and  now  a  German  hymn, 
sung  by  lusty  peasant  voices,  rings  out  on  the  air. 
The  bride  is  leaving  the  church,  treading  lightly  over 
the  flowers  that  have  been  cast  in  her  path,  and  glanc- 
ing neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left  lest  some  evil 
befall,  according  to  the  superstitions  of  the  country. 
At  the  door  the  baron  stops  them,  and  stoops  to  kiss 
the  bride,  at  the  same  time  handing  a  heavy  purse  to 
Karl.  And  on  Gretchen's  brow  fall  other  kisses  that 
she  cannot  feel,  and  over  Karl  are  breathed  inaudible 
blessings.  The  fays  are  gathered  in  a  mystic  circle 
and  the  fairy-bells  chime  merrily  on  the  breeze.  Hither 
and  thither  flit  the  gladsome  sprites  in  the  sunlight, 
and  Karl,  repaid  for  past  sorrow,  care  and  labor,  feels 
his  heart  swell  with  gratitude  and  love  as  he  hears  once 
more,  clearer,  sweeter,  holier  than  ever,  the  elfin  music 
that  crowns  his  happiness. 

With  a  sigh  I  awake,  to  find  the  fire  extinguished 


284 


DEATH  NO  REVEALER   OF  MYSTERIES. 


on  the  hearth  and  the  room  in  utter  darkness.  I  hear 
voices  in  the  hall  and  soon  my  solitude  will  be  inter- 
rupted. Yet  I  will  not  reveal  my  glimpse  of  fairyland 
to  other  mortals.  They  would  smile,  and  would  not 
recognize  the  hidden  meaning,  which  is,  that,  if  we 
face  our  griefs  boldly,  and  follow,  without  shrinking, 
the  hard  road  of  duty,  we  too  may  hear  the  melody 
of  fairy-bells  to  cheer  us  on  our  way. 


DEATH  NO  REVEALER  OF  MYSTERIES. 

t 

HE  world  is  full  of  mysteries.  Our  origin,  the 
laws  of  our  being,  and  our  dependence  upon 
God ;  the  relations  of  mind  to  matter  and  of 
matter  to  mind  ;  the  existence  of  evil ;  the  harmony 
of  providence  with  free  will,  and  the  very  processes 
of  our  feeling  and  thinking,  are  problems  which,  from 
the  earliest  ages,  have  exercised  human  ingenuity. 
Whence  we  come,  whither  we  go,  and  why  we  are 
here  at  all,  are  questions  which  puzzle  as  many  minds 
now  as  they  did  when  metaphysics  first  began  to  be  dis- 
cussed. Even  in  matters  directly  within  the  range  of 
experience  our  curiosity  is  frequently  baffled.  Crimes 
are  committed  and  the  criminal  remains  undiscovered  ; 
motives  are  concealed  where  the  deed  is  known  ;  history 
is  in  a  larger  part  made  up  of  mere  guesses ;  our  most 
intimate  friends  have  secrets  which  escape  detection  by 
us ;  and  we  walk  through  life  as  it  were  in  a  fog,  seeing 
only  the  things  that  lie  close  around  us.  Hence  has 
arisen  the  hope  on  the  part  of  some  that  death  will  lift 


DEATH  NO  REVEALER   OF  MYSTERIES.  285 

the  vail  that  hides  the  truth,  and  that  beyond  the  grave 
they  will  know  all  and  understand  all.  This  hope,  we 
are  afraid,  will  never  be  fulfilled. 

As  to  metaphysics,  the  utmost  that  death  can  do  for 
the  soul  is  to  set  it  free  from  the  weight  of  the  body ;  it 
cannot  endow  it  with  faculties  which  it  does  not  now 
possess.  •  Such  as  man  is  when  he  dies  such  will  he 
continue  to  be  afterward.  Undoubtedly  his  clarified 
vision  will  perceive  objects  to  which  gross  material  eyes 
are  insensible,  and  to  that  extent  his  intellect  will  be 
assisted.  But  we  have  no  right  to  suppose  that  he  will 
acquire  any  greater  power  of  reasoning  than  he  has  now, 
or  that  he  will  be  better  able  to  combine  ideas  and  draw 
conclusions  from  them.  Wisely  did  Milton  write  of  the 
fallen  angels : 

"  Others  apart  sat  on  a  hill  retired, 
In  thoughts  more  elevate,  and  reasoned  high 
Of  Providence,  foreknowledge,  will,  and  fate; 
Fixed  fate,  free  will,  for  knowledge  absolute, 
And  found  no  end,  in  wandering  mazes  lost." 

We,  in  like  manner,  shall  find  no  end  that  we  can- 
not fitid  here,  and  shall  be  lost  in  the  same  mazes,  or 
others  like  them,  that  now  perplex  us. 

In  one  respect,  indeed,  our  ability  to  solve  the 
problems  of  our  existence  is  likely  to  be  less  in  the  next 
life  than  in  this.  The  advance  of  natural  science  is  here 
continually  aiding  us  to  comprehend  the  laws  of  the 
material  universe,  and  thence  by  analogy  those  of  un- 
seen things.  The  adaptation  of  means  to  ends,  the 
persistency  of  force,  and  the  immutability  of  law,  are 
daily  receiving  fresh  demonstrations  at  the  hands  of 
scientific  men,  while  the  progress  of  discovery  gives 
hopes  of  the  speedy  construction  of  a  cosmic  theory 
which  shall  meet  every  requirement  of  the  facts  of 


2g6  0EATH  NO  REVEALER   OF  MYSTERIES. 

creation.  Hundreds  of  things  which  puzzled  our 
ancestors  are  plain  to  us,  and  in  the  same  way  what  are 
puzzles  to  us  will  be  plain  to  our  posterity.  According 
as  the  chaos  of  the  world  of  sense  is  cleared  up  and 
reduced  to  order,  a  solid  foundation  is  laid  for  the 
investigation  of  more  recondite  subjects ;  but  to  make 
use  of  it,  the  purely  spiritual  faculties,  however  they 
may  be  sharpened  by  the  removal  of  the  body,  will  be 
unavailing.  We  must  have  the  corporeal  senses  which 
alone  take  cognizance  of  material  things,  and  losing 
these  we  lose  the  help  they  would  afford  us.  To  this 
extent  death  will  deepen  the  obscurity  that  surrounds 
us  instead  of  enlightening  it,  and  will  be  a  hindrance 
rather  than  a  help. 

The  like  may  be  said  of  undiscovered  crimes  and 
other  deeds  of  which  we  would  fain  know  the  details  and 
the  motives.  In  this  world,  such  knowledge  is  locked 
in  the  breast  of  one  or  more  men  who  will  not  reveal  it ; 
and  when  they  die,  it  dies  with  them  so  far  as  we  are 
concerned.  Will  they  be  any  more  ready  to  tell  us 
when  we  join  them  on  the  other  side  of  the  grave? 
Shall  we  even  find  them  out  so  that  we  may  ask  them  ? 
If  they  are  lost  now  in  the  multitude  that  covers  the 
earth,  they  will  be  much  more  lost  among  the  countless 
myriads  who  from  the  beginning  of  creation  have  flitted 
across  it  and  disappeared  in  the  abyss  of  eternity.  Or 
if  we  could  find  them  and  they  were  willing  to  tell  us 
all  they  once  knew,  there  is  no  certainty  that  they  would 
remember  it.  Time  works  oblivion  during  our  mortal 
career ;  and  what  memory  can  survive  the  endless 
revolutions  of  immortality  ? 

Besides,  the  nature  of  the  human  mind  itself  forbids 
us  to  expect  either  here  or  elsewhere  the  revelation  of 
all  mysteries.  To  know  everything  and  comprehend 


HAND-WORK. 


287 


everything  is  not  the  lot  of  finite  intelligence ;  it  is  the 
attribute  of  God  alone.  Sages,  who  have  spent  long 
lives  in  study  and  research,  and  deservedly  become 
esteemed  as  the  wisest  of  mankind,  have  always  been 
most  ready  to  confess  the  meagerness  of  their  acquire- 
ments. Learn  as  much  as  we  may,  there  always  remains 
infinitely  more,  to  be  learned.  As  fast  as  one  height  is 
gained  another  rises  before  us,  and  an  ever  receding 
goal  mocks  our  efforts  to  attain  it.  So  it  is  now,  and 
so  it  will  be  hereafter.  Neither  in  this  life  nor  in  the 
life  to  come  is  it  possible  for  us  to  know  all,  and  we  may 
as  well  give  up  the  thought  of  it. 


HAND-WORK. 

[HE  lad  who  owns  a  treadle-saw  and  can  make 
brackets,  wall-pockets,  vase-stands,  and  many  an- 
other pretty  thing  with  which  to  ornament  his 
home,  is  a  happy  fellow  ;  but  it  is  not  impossible 
that  the  boy  with  only  a  jack-knife  will  excel  him  in 
the  results  of  his  artistic  efforts  before  his  life  is  half 
over,  albeit  he  now  envies  the  rapidity  with  which  results 
are  obtained  by  the  saw. 

The  days  of  machinery  are  all  very  well,  and  we 
should  be  poky  and  slow  without  them, — but  the  beauti- 
ful, the  artistic,  the  ideal  things  of  this  world  are  wrought 
by  the  skillful.  Those  old  carvings  which  are  the  won- 
der of  the  times  have  been  produced  by  the  cunning 
and  patient  human  hand.  When  we  desire  to  purchase 
an  exquisite  floriated  picture-frame  and  find  the  price 


288  HAND-WORK. 

above  our  means,  the  explanation  is  made  to  us  that  it 
is  hand-work.  The  same  is  said  of  a  finely  decorated 
piece  of  porcelain.  It  is  painted  by  hand.  No  machine 
has  ever  been  invented  that  is  as  deft  and  satisfying  as 
the  human  hand.  Nature  is  formed  and  arranged  by 
the  Great  Artisan,  and  no  two  things  are  exactly  alike. 
Machines  provide  no  diversity,  and  it  is  in  variations 
that  we  discover  delight  for  the  eyes. 

Boys  and  girls  are  too  apt  to  amuse  themselves  by 
efforts  that  terminate  in  nothing  particular.  They  cut 
papers  which  only  make  litter.  They  whittle  sticks  and 
shape  nothing  that  is  either  for  ornament  or  use.  It  is 
said  that  the  Yankees  are  inveterate  whittlers.  They  cut 
bits  of  stick  to  compose  their  minds  when  seriously  argu- 
ing or  bargaining,  but  they  seldom  construct  anything. 

It  is  told  that  the  famous  Sam  Houston  accepted  for 
a  son-in-law  a  young  man  without  family  or  fortune,  and 
one,  too,  about  whose  early  life  he  knew  but  little,  if  any- 
thing. A  friend  expostulated  with  the  resolute  old  man 
for  his  apparent  carelessness  of  his  daughter's  future, 
and  he  replied : 

"  I  watched  this  young  man.  He  is  a  constant  whit- 
tier  when  away  from  his  business,  and  I  have  observed 
that  he  always  has  an  object  in  view  when  he  is  at  work, 
and  he  always  produces  a  complete  result  that  is  either 
useful  or  ornamental,  and  sometimes  it  is  both.  A  man 
with  such  a  habit  of  brain  and  hand  will  most  certainly 
be  able  to  provide  a  livjng  for  any  woman." 

The  idea  included  in  Mr.  Houston's  estimate  of  a 
stranger  ought  not  to  be  lightly  thrown  aside  by  mothers 
who,  in  the  winter  evenings,  endeavor  to  provide  occu- 
pation for  their  children.  There  is  as  much  amusement 
in  making  something  that  is  pretty,  or  curious,  or  prac- 
tical, as  there  is  in  playing. 


HAND-WORK.  2g 

Many  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  New  York,  as 
well  as  their  children,  are  fond  of  carving  wood,  and 
each  one  seeks  for  a  device,  or  perhaps  originates  one, 
that  shall  give  pleasure  by  its  contrast  with  other  similar 
handiwork.  This  taste  has  led  to  much  research  among 
architectural  and  decorative  designs  of  all  nations  as 
found  in  illustrated  books.  Drawings  are  taken  from 
them  in  pencil  or  ink,  and  reproduced  in  carvings  on 
wood.  Picture-frames,  panels  for  cabinet  doors,  table 
legs  and  tops,  flower-baskets,/<zr^z«z>^,etc.,are  wrought 
out  of  wood  in  fanciful  designs. 

A  mantel,  exhibiting  base  and  upper  shelves,  and  dis- 
playing elegant  consoles  with  brackets,  has  just  been 
completed  by  a  school-girl  for  her  father's  dining-room. 
She  has  been  a  year  carving  it. 

A  business  gentleman  of  New  York,  whose  eyes 
have  suffered  from  too  close  an  attention  to  books  dur- 
ing his  evenings,  is  in  the  midst  of  carving  a  complete 
bed-room  set  of  furniture,  consisting  of  six  pieces. 
These  beautiful  pieces  of  work  have  been  his  constant 
amusement  during  leisure  hours  for  months.  The  set 
is  intended  as  a  bridal  gift  to  his  business  partner. 

"  However  did  you  learn  to  do  this  exquisite  work?" 
we  asked  him,  knowing  that  his  occupation  was  large 
and  absorbing. 

"  I  began  making  things  of  wood  when  I  was  a  boy 
at  home,  and  my  mother  always  called  my  attention  to 
graceful  traceries  in  prints,  carvings  and  architectural 
ornamentations,  and  she  never  lost  an  opportunity  of 
encouraging  in  me  not  only  a  love  for  the  beautiful,  but 
a  desire  to  attain  it  by  my  own  efforts,  and  so  from 
whittling  the  transition  to  carving  became  very  easy. 
Indeed  it  was  an  imperceptible  advancement.  Any  child 
may  become  a  lover  of  the  beautiful  products  of  his 
19 


290 


SHORT-TAILED  MANIS. 


own  hands  if  he  is  properly  encouraged  and  directed. 
I  believe  that  a  desire  to  produce  artistic  and  useful 
articles  during  leisure  hours  will  do  as  much  for  the 
good  conduct  of  the  young  of  both  sexes  as  will  a  su- 
perior code  of  morals  —  and  perhaps  even  more.  In 
proper  and  elevating  occupation  during  leisure  there  is 
always  safety.  It  restrained  me  from  keeping  evil  com- 
pany." 

This  is  one  man's  experience,  and  he  has  been  a  wide 
observer  of  men  and  things. 


SHORT-TAILED    MANIS. 

'E  give  a  fine  illustration  of  the  short-tailed 
Manis,  called  also  Bajjerkeit  and  Scaly  Ant- 
Eater,  found  very  commonly  in  India.  It  is 
about  four  feet  in  length,  and  covered  with  dense 
horny  scales,  which  overlap  each  other  like  the 
tiles  of  a  house  roof,  and  these  scales  are  its  only 
means  of  defense,  as  it  has  no  teeth.  When  alarmed 
it  will  roll  itself  up  into  a  solid  ball,  elevating  a  multi- 
tude of  sharp  edges,  and  make  such  a  formidable  de- 
fense by  its  armor  that  even  large  animals  like  the 
tiger  vainly  attempt  its  destruction.  It  subsists  almost 
entirely  upon  *nts.  With  its  strong  claws  it  will  tear 
down  the  habitations  of  these  insects,  and  then  sit 
quietly,  and  by  the  use  of  its  long,  extensible  tongue, 
furnished  with  a  glutinous  mucus,  will  gather  in  its 
food  very  rapidly. 

It  is  an  inoffensive  animal,  and  is  sometimes  kept 


SHORT-TAILED  MAN  IS. 


29I 


about  the  house  of  the  natives ;  but  it  prefers  the 
forest,  where  it  can  live  unmolested  by  mankind.  It 
constructs  a  habitation  by  digging  deep  into  the  earth, 
and  to  this  it  retreats  when  not  likely  to  be  overtaken 
by  an  enemy.  After  the  manner  of  the  Brazilian  Ant- 


THE   SHORT-TAILED   MAN  IS. 

Bear,  it  curls    up    its    forward   feet  when   walking,  as 
shown  in  our  illustration. 

Dr.  Hartwig  says  that  Africa  possesses  a  peculiar 
class  of  Ant-Eaters,  which  are  found  from  the  Cape 
to  Abyssinia,  all  over  the  sultry  plains  where  their 
food  abounds.  Their  legs  are  short  and  provided  with 
claws  fit  for  burrowing  in  the  earth,  which  they  can 
do  with  great  rapidity,  and  when  once  their  head  and 


2Q2  VIVISECTION. 

fore  feet  have  penetrated  into  the  ground,  their  hold 
is  so  tenacious  that  even  the  strongest  man  is  incap- 
able of  dragging  them  from  their  holes. 


VIVISECTION.- 

HE  practice  of  cutting  up  live  animals  in  the 
name  of  science  is  not  so  common  in  this  coun- 
try as  in  Europe.  Dogs  are  most  frequently  the 
subjects  in  this  inhuman  treatment,  and  perhaps 
the  most  insatiate  torturer  of  the  canine  race  that 
ever  lived  is  Professor  Schiff,  of  Florence,  Italy.  Two 
dogs  a  day  are  sacrificed  by  him  in  his  physiological 
demonstrations,  and  it  is  estimated  that  in  ten  years  no 
less  than  fourteen  thousand  of  the  brutes  have  quivered 
and  died  under  his  keen  knife-blade.  Naturally,  the 
professor  is  unpopular  with  people  who  have  canine 
pets,  and  recently  the  society  with  a  long  name  tried 
to  get  up  a  "  corner"  on  dogs,  and  deprive  the  professor 
of  his  prey.  All  the  streets  and  alleys  of  Florence 
were  canvassed,  and  a  great  army  of  curs  bought  for 
sixty  cents  a  head,  which  were  then  killed  in  a  humane 
manner.  The  scientific  vivisector  first  cuts  the  vocal 
nerves,  so  that  the  only  evidence  of  suffering  betrayed 
by  his  victim  are  the  pitiful  writhings  and  agonized 
pleadings  of  the  eyes.  Sometimes  the  animal  is  under 
the  knife  day  after  day,  its  life  being  sliced  away  by 
inches.  It  took  seventeen  dogs  and  twenty-two  rab- 
bits, baked  or  boiled  alive,  for  Claude  Bernard  to  satisfy 
himself  concerning  death  by  heat.  "  Sentimental  hum- 


THE   OCEAN   WAVES.  293 

bug  "  is  what  the  vivisector  styles  the  protests  of  humane 
people  against  this  method  of  scientific  investigation. 
In  England  public  sentiment  against  vivisection  has 
resulted  in  a  law  confining  its  practice,  without  the 
use  of  anesthetics,  to  a  limited  number  of  professional 
men,  who  must  certify  that  their  object  is  that  of  legiti- 
mate research.  The  opinions  of  physiologists  them- 
selves differ  on  the  subject  of  vivisection.  The  cele- 
brated Haller  was  tormented  in  his  later  years  by 
haunting  memories  of  the  wretched  animals  he  had 
needlessly  sacrificed,  and  he  confessed  that  very  little 
knowledge  was  to  be  attained  by  the  practice.  The 
effects  of  the  vivisector's  cruel  art  on  students  has 
been  often  found  to  be  debasing  and  brutalizing.  It 
develops  the  lurking  demon  in  human  nature  as  hardly 
anything  else  will,  and  creates  a  reckless  disregard  of 
suffering,  which  is  apt  to  extend  from  the  animal  to 
the  human  subject. 


THE    OCEAN    WAVES. 

HE  force  of  the  waves  and  the  height  to  which 
they  dash  against  lighthouse  towers  in  the  most 
exposed  situations  are  astonishing ;  and  we  can- 
not contemplate  them  without  reflecting  how  great 
a   triumph  of   science  and   art  these  buildings  are, 
and  how  strange  life  in  them  must  be. 

We  find  some  interesting  information  on  these 
points  in  the  copious  appendix  to  the  Report  of  the 
Royal  Commission,  appointed  in  1858,  to  inquire  into 


294  THE   OCEAN    WAVES. 

the  condition  and  management  of  lights,  buoys  and 
beacons  —  a  bulky  parliamentary  blue-book  of  1861. 
At  the  Longships  Lighthouse,  on  the  top  of  a  conical 
rock  opposite  Land's  End,  the  commissioners  were 
told  by  the  head  keeper  that  in  heavy  weather  waves 
break  about  the  lantern  seventy-nine  feet  above  high 
water  mark ;  and  that  on  one  occasion  the  sea  lifted 
the  cowl  off  the  top  so  as  to  admit  a  great  deal  of 
water,  by  which  several  of  the  lamps  were  extinguished, 
and  all  the  men  were  employed  in  bailing  till  the  tide 
fell.  He  added  that  there  is  a  cavern  under  the  light- 
house at  the  end  of  a  long  split  in  the  rock,  and  when 
there  is  a  heavy  sea,  the  noise  produced  by  the  escape 
of  pent-up  air  from  the  cavern  is  so  great  that  the  men 
can  hardly  sleep. 

Concerning  the  Scilly  Bishops'  Lighthouse,  on  a 
rock  southwest  of  the  Scilly  isles,  of  which  the  com- 
missioners say  that  the  building  is  "perhaps  the  most 
exposed  in  the  world,"  they  give  the  report  of  the  head 
keeper  that  "  the  spray  goes  over  the  top  of  the  light- 
house," the  height  of  which  is  one  hundred  and  ten 
feet.  At  the  South  Bishop  Rock  Lighthouse  they 
were  informed  that  "  spray  occasionally  strikes  the 
lantern,  and  it  has  broken  the  lower  windows  of  the 
dwelling-house  " —  that  is,  of  the  part  of  the  tower  so 
called.  Yet  the  South  Bishop  Rock  Lighthouse  is 
on  a  rock  —  off  the  coast  of  South  Wales  —  of  such 
size  that  there  is  a  patch  of  grass  before  the  door,  and 
the  tower  rises  to  a  height  of  one  hundred  and  forty- 
four  feet  above  the  sea. 

The  Smalls  Lighthouse,  also  off  the  coast  of  South 
Wales,  is  on  a  low  rock  about  twenty  miles  from  land, 
but  so  large  ifiat  "  there  is  room  to  walk  about."  It 
is  above  high  water  mark ;  but  we  are  told  "  the  sea 


THE   OCEAN    WAVES.  205 

breaks  all  about  the  lantern  of  the  old  lighthouse,  and 
over  the  new  building,  when  there  is  heavy  weather." 
The  "  old  building  "  was  a  wooden  lighthouse  erected 
in  1788;  the  "new  building"  a  stone  one  in  course 
of  erection  in  1859,  when  the  visit  of  the  commissioners 
was  paid.  The  commissioners  add,  from  information 
given  them  by  the  head  keeper,  that  "  green  seas  pass 
up  to  a  point  about  thirty-two  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  rock."  If  this  is  the  case  in  the  Irish  sea,  what 
must  be  the  height  to  which  "green  seas"  reach  on 
the  lighthouse  towers  in  the  Atlantic  ocean  ?  As  to 
the  force  of  the  waves,  although  no  stone  had  been 
removed  from  its  place  since  the  work  of  the  new 
building  began,  an  iron  bar  was  shown  to  the  com- 
missioners, about  two  inches  thick,  and  fixed  in  the 
rock,  which  had  been  bent  like  a  wire. 

The  height  to  which  the  waves  sometimes  rise  when 
they  dash  against  rock,  has  been  found  at  the  North 
Unst  Lighthouse  to  be  far  greater  than  appears  from 
any  of  the  instances  already  adduced.  This  lighthouse 
is  one  of  the  most  recently  erected  on  our  coasts,  and  is 
of  special  interest  as  being  situated  at  the  most  northern 
point  of  land  in  the  British  Islands.  It  is  built  on  a 
stack,  or  outlying  rock  of  conical  form,  of  nearly  two 
hundred  feet  in  height,  at  the  north  end  of  Unst,  the 
northernmost  of  the  Shetland  Isles.  The  rock,  as  seen 
from  the  south,  very  much  resembles  a  sugar-loaf  in 
form,  and  its  steep  slope  could  only  be  scaled  with 
difficulty  previous  to  the  cutting  of  steps  in  it.  On  the 
north  it  is  nearly  perpendicular,  and  exposed  to  the 
full  "  fetch  "  of  the  ocean.  The  top  of  the  rock  affords 
little  more  space  than  is  sufficient  for  the  site  of  the 
lighthouse. 


2g6  THE   OCEAN    WAVES. 

There  is  only  one  part  of  the  rock  where  a  landing 
can  be  effected,  and  that,  of  course,  only  in  favorable 
weather,  so  that  the  lightkeepers  are  as  completely  cut 
off  from  communication  with  the  rest  of  the  world  as  if 
their  islet  abode  were  many  miles  from  land.  The 
dwelling-houses  of  their  families  are  on  the  island  of 
Unst.  The  first  light  shown  here  was  from  a  temporary 
tower  erected  in  1854,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  Ad- 
miralty, for  the  benefit  of  the  North  Sea  squadron  in 
the  Russian  war.  A  temporary  iron  lighthouse  and 
dwellings  were  constructed  at  Glasgow,  and  carried  to 
the  spot,  with  all  materials  and  stores,  by  a  steamer, 
and  light  was  shown  after  little  more  than  two  months, 
although  landings  were  accomplished  with  difficulty, 
and  everything  had  to  -be  carried  to  the  top  of  the  rock 
on  the  backs  of  laborers.  The  temporary  building 
being  nearly  two  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea,  it  was  supposed  that  they  would  have  nothing  but 
wind  and  rain  to  withstand.  But  in  December,  during 
a  severe  gale  from  the  nprthwest,  the  sea  broke  over 
the  rock,  broke  heavily  on  the  tower,  and  broke  open 
the  dwelling-house  and  deluged  it  with  water.  Similar 
storms  occurred  during  the  winter ;  seas  fell  with  vio- 
lence on  the  iron  roof  of  the  dwelling-house,  so  that  the 
lightkeepers  began  to  entertain  serious  doubts  of  their 
own  safety.  It  was  resolved,  therefore,  to  raise  the 
permanent  structure  fifty  feet  above  the  rock. 

Most  lonely  and  remote  from  all  the  ordinary  scenes 
of  busy  human  life  are  the  lighthouses  of  Skerryvore 
and  Dubh-iartaig;  towers  of  one  hundred  and  forty 
feet  high,  on  rocks  in  the  Atlantic.  Dubh-iartaig  is  a 
rock  of  considerable  size,  rising  above  the  level  of  high 
water,  but  over  which  the  waves  break  in  a  moderate 
gale.  It  lies  in  the  open  ocean,  twenty  miles  from  the 


OCEAN  WAVES. 


298 


MOON   THEORIES. 


Island  of  Mull,  and  a  like  distance  from  that  of  Colonsay. 
Skerryvore  is  a  reef  of  low  rocks,  equally  in  the  open 
ocean,  and  about  twelve  miles  from  the  island  of  Tiree  — 
where  the  families  of  the  lightkeepers  live  —  and  about 
twenty  west  of  lona. 


MOON    THEORIES. 

jE  believe  that  all  nations  of  people  have  their 
moon  theories,  or  superstitious  notions,  and  yet 
there  are  none  more  silly  than  the  cherished 
ideas  of  our  own  civilized  people,  who  believe 
that  the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms  are 
under  its  control ;  that  the  elements  are  controlled 
by  its  changes ;  indeed,  that  the  soil  yields  or  re- 
fuses to  yield  according  as  the  seeds  are  given  it  in  the 
old  or  new  of  the  moon. 

The  American  Indian  looks  to  the  moon  for  signs 
of  weather.  He  believes  that  the  good  spirit  makes  a 
new  moon  every  month,  and  as  soon  as  he  gets  it  fin- 
ished, round  and  full,  he  falls  asleep,  and  evil  spirits 
commence  eating  the  moon  by  gnawing  off  the  side 
until  they  have  consumed  it,  then  the  good  spirit 
awakens  and  begins  making  a  new  one  again.  The 
shape  of  this  new  moon,  or  its  position,  determines  the 
weather  for  the  next  two  weeks,  or  half  moon. 

Among  the  different  tribes  of  Indians,  as  well  as 
among  civilized  people,  the  theories  are  in  direct  op- 
position. We  have  heard  many  a  time  two  men  dis- 
puting as  to  the  signs,  one  claiming  that  when  the  bowl 


MOON   THEORIES. 


299 


of  the  new  moon  will  hold  water,  it  will  be  dry ;  another 
that  when  the  bowl  will  not  hold  water  it  will  be  dry  — 
both  parties  having  watched  the  signs  for  years,  declare 
that  they  never  fail.  The  absurdity  is  seen  at  once. 

The  following  from  Blackwood  on  this  subject  is  to 
the  point : 

"  The  notion  that  the  moon  exerts  an  influence  on 
the  weather  is  so  deeply  rooted  that,  notwithstanding 
all  the  attacks  which  have  been  made  against  it,  it  con- 
tinues to  retain  its  hold  upon  us.  And  yet  there  never 
was  a  popular  superstition  so  utterly  without  basis  as 
this  one.  If  the  moon  really  did  possess  any  power 
over  the  weather,  that  power  could  be  exercised  in  one 
of  these  ways  —  by  reflection  on  the  sun's  rays,  by  at- 
traction, or  by  emanation.  No  other  form  of  action  is 
conceivable.  Now,  as  the  brightest  light  of  a  full 
moon  is  never  equal  in  intensity  or  quantity  to  that 
which  is  reflected  toward  us  by  a  white  cloud  on  a  sum- 
mer day,  it  can  scarcely  be  pretended  that  the  weather 
is  affected  by  such  a  cause. 

"  Laplace  calculated  that  the  joint  attraction  of  the 
sun  and  moon  together  could  not  stir  the  atmosphere 
at  a  quicker  rate  than  five  miles  a  day.  As  for  lunar 
emanations,  not  a  sign  of  them  has  ever  been  discov- 
ered. The  idea  of  an  influence  being  produced  by  the 
phases  of  the  moon  is  therefore  based  on  no  recog- 
nizable cause  whatever.  Furthermore,  it  is  now  dis- 
tinctly shown  that  no  variations  at  all  really  occur  in 
weather  at  the  moment  of  the  changes  of  quarter,  any 
more  than  at  any  other  ordinary  time.  Since  the 
establishment  of  meteorological  stations  all  over  the 
earth,  it  has  been  proved  by  millions  of  observations 
that  there  is  no  simultaneousness  whatever  between 
the  supposed  cause  and  the  supposed  effect.  The 


300  CAMPHOR  MANUFACTURE. 

whole  story  is  fancy  and  superstition  which  has  been 
handed  to  us  uncontradicted,  and  which  has  been  ac- 
cepted as  true  because  our  forefathers  believed  it.  The 
moon  exercises  no  more  influence  over  the  weather 
than  herrings  do  on  the  government  of  Switzerland." 


CAMPHOR   MANUFACTURE. 

A.  VON  RORETZ,  of  Otanyama,  Japanr 
states  that  the  only  tree  which  yields  the  com- 
mercial camphor  of  Japan  and  Formosa  is  the 
laurus  camphoratus,  which  the  natives  call  tsunoki. 
It  is  very  widely  distributed  in  Japan,  being  equally 
common  on  the  three  islands,  Niphon,  Kinshin  and 
Sikok ;  but  it  thrives  best  in  the  southern  portion  of 
the  kingdom,  namely,  in  the  provinces  of  Tosa  and 
Sikok.  The  sea-coast,  with  its  mild,  damp  air,  agrees 
with  it  best ;  and  hence  the  chief  production  of  cam- 
phor is  in  these  provinces. 

Camphor  is. collected  the  whole  year  through,  but 
the  best  results  are  obtained  in  winter.  When  the  cam- 
phor collectors  find  a  spot  with  several  camphor  tre.es 
in  the  vicinity,  they  migrate  thither,  build  a  hut  to 
live  in,  and  construct  a  furnace  for  making  the  crude 
camphor.  When  that  place  is  exhausted  the  hut  is 
torn  down  and  carried  to  another  place. 

The  method  observed  in  obtaining  camphor  is  very 
simple.  The  workmen  select  a  tree,  and  with  a  hollow- 
ground,  short-handled  instrument  begin  to  chop  off  reg- 
ular chips.  As  soon  as  the  huge  tree  falls,  the  trunk, 


CAMPHOR  MANUFACTURE.  y^\ 

large  roots  and  branches  are  chopped  up  in  the  same 
way,  and  the  chips  carried  to  the  furnace  in  baskets. 
The  furnaces  are  mostly  built  on  the  side  of  a  hill  near 
,a  stream  of  water,  and  serve  for  the  wet  distillation  of 
the  chips. 

The  furnace  is  of  very  simple  construction.  A  small 
circular  foundation  is  built  of  stone,  and  upon  this  is 
placed  a  shallow  iron  pan,  two  feet  in  diameter,  covered 
with  a  perforated  cover,  luted  on  with  clay.  This  cover 
forms  the  bottom  of  a  cylindrical  vessel  forty  inches 
high,  and  tapering  to  eighteen  inches  at  the  top.  Near 
the  bottom  of  this  vessel  is  a  square  opening  which  can 
be  tightly  closed  with  a  board.  The  whole  vessel  is 
covered  with  a  thick  coating  of  clay,  held  in  place  by 
strips  of  bamboo.  The  cover  of  this  vessel,  which  is 
-also  luted  on  with  clay,  has  an  opening,  closed  with  a 
plug.  Passing  through  the  side  of  the  vessel  near  the 
top  is  a  bamboo  tube  leading  to  the  condenser.  This 
condenser  is  merely  a  quadrangular  box,  open  below 
and  divided  up  by  four  partitions  into  five  compartments 
communicating  with  each  other.  The  open  side  of  this 
box  dips  into  water  and  is  kept  cool  by  water  drizzling 
over  it. 

The  manipulations  in  the  preparation  of  the  cam- 
phor are  as  follows:  The  cylindrical  vessel  is  filled,  after 
removing  the  cover,  with  chips  of  camphor-wood;  the 
lid  is  then  luted  on,  and  a  definite  quantity  of  water 
poured  in  through  the  hole,  which  moistens  the  chips 
and  collects  in  the  pan.  It  is  now  heated  gently  for 
twelve  hours,  a  small  fire  being  kept  up  as  soon  as  the 
water  in  the  pan  begins  to  boil.  The  ascending  vapors 
passing  through  the  chips  carry  off  all  the  camphor  and 
oil  in  the  wood,  and  both  are  deposited  on  the  surface 
of  the  water  in  the  condenser.  At  the  end  of  twelve 


302  CLOVES  AND   PEPPER. 

hours  the  exhausted  chips  are  removed  through  the 
square  hole,  and  fresh  chips  and  fresh  water  put  in.  At 
the  expiration  of  twenty-four  hours  the  process  is  inter- 
rupted, the  whole  apparatus  cleaned,  and  the  camphor 
collected  and  packed  in  barrels.  Here  it  is  very  lightly 
pressed  ;  and  the  oil,  which  amounts  to  at  least  twenty- 
five  per  cent,  and  is  as  clear  as  water,  is  poured  off  from 
the  solid  camphor,  and  both  products  are  sent  to  mar- 
ket. At  certain  places  the  crude  camphor  is  again 
pressed  somewhat  harder,  when  quite  a  good  deal  more 
oil  runs  through  the  crevices  in  the  vessels.  The  toler- 
ably dry  product  is  sent  mostly  to  Osaka,  the  chief  ex- 
port town  for  this  important  article  of  commerce. 

The  camphor  oil,  called  by  the  Japanese  s/wnoaburaf 
is  used  by  very  poor  people  only  as  an  illuminating 
oil ;  and  in  spite  of  its  strong  smell  and  smoke  it  is 
burned  in  open  lamps.  Perfectly  pure  camphor  is  not 
exported,  but  the  crude  country  product  is  first  freed 
from  the  still  adherent  oil  by  further  distillation  in 
Europe.  The  exhausted  chips  are  dried  on  a  scaffold 
by  the  side  of  the  furnace,  and  are  then  used  as  fuel. 


CLOVES   AND    PEPPER. 

HE  clove  tree  belongs  to  the  family  of  myrtles. 
Its  small    lanceolate  evergreen   leaves  resemble 
those    of  the    laurel,  and    the    flowers   grow   in 
bunches  at  the  extremity  of  the  limbs.     They  first 
appear  at  the  beginning  of  the  rainy  season  ;  they 
are  in  the  form  of  long  greenish  buds,  from  the  ends 


CLOVES  AND  PEPPER.  303 

of  which  the  expanded  corolla  shows  a  delicate  peach- 
blossom  color.  When  the  corollas  begin  to  fade  the 
calyx  turns  yellow,  then  red ;  the  calyces,  with  their 
forming  seeds,  are  at  this  time  plucked  from  the  tree, 
and  after  drying  in  the  sun,  become  the  cloves  of  com- 
merce. If  the  cloves  are  not  gathered  just  at  this 
time  the  seed  enlarges,  the  calyx  expands,  and  much 
of  the  pungent  properties  of  the  clove  is  lost.  The 
whole  tree  is  aromatic,  and  the  footstalks  of  the  leaves 
are  nearly  as  odorous  as  the  flowers. 

As  an  ornamental  tree  the  clove  is  unrivaled.  Their 
noble  height,  their  beautiful  form,  their  luxuriant 
foliage  and  spicy  fragrance  conspire  to  make  them 
"  a  joy  forever." 

It  requires  a  favorable  soil  and  climate  to  develop 
the  oil  and  resinous  qualities  peculiar  to  this  tree.  In 
the  larger  islands  of  eastern  Asia,  and  in  Cochin-China, 
it  has  little  flavor.  In  the  Moluccas  the  clove  comes 
to  perfection  without  cultivation.  It  is  planted  in 
Zanzibar,  Cayenne,  Bourbon  and  Trinidad;  but  from 
Amboyna  comes  the"  best  quality,  and  in  quantity 
ranging  up  among  the  million  pounds. 

Pepper,  although  not  so  costly  as  cloves,  is  of 
greater  commercial  value  because  the  consumption  is 
immense.  The  pepper-vine  supports  itself  by  twining 
around  poles  placed  for  it,  or,  as  in  many  plantations, 
it  is  placed  near  the  mango  and  other  straight  trees, 
the  trunks  of  which  it  festoons  with  elegant  bunches 
of  fruit.  The  pepper  leaf  is  large  and  bright  green  in 
color,  and  resembles  the  ivy.  It  flowers  in  June  after 
the  rains  begin.  The  greenish  white  blossoms  are  fol- 
lowed by  pungent  fruit  that  grow  in  clusters  like  grapes. 

Pepper  grows  on  the  Malabar  coast  in  Sumatra, 
Borneo,  Java  and  Singapore ;  s^nd  its  cultivation  has 


304 


THE  SACRED  IBIS. 


been  introduced  into  Cayenne  and  the  West  Indies. 
The  black  and  white  varieties  are  the  product  of  the 
same  plant,  the  latter  being  naturally  bleached  while 
lying  on  the  ground,  or  artificially  prepared,  which 
may  add  to  its  commercial  value,  but  detracts  from  the 
strength  and  flavor  of  the  spice. 

Of  later  years,  in  the  mania  for  adulteration,  the 
ground  pepper  is  too  often  mixed  with  other  substances 
unpalatable  if  properly  analyzed ;  and  it  would  be 
preferable,  if  practicable,  to  purchase  the  round  pepper- 
corns and  reduce  them  to  flour  by  pounding  in  a 
mortar.  Some  such  method  ought  to  be  revived  where- 
by to  prepare  both  coffee  and  spices,  for  by  no  other 
means  can  we  be  sure  of  obtaining  the  genuine 
articles. 


THE  SACRED  IBIS. 

jHERE  are  several  species  of  the  ibis  family, 
1  all  peculiar,  and  some  of  them  particularly  noted 
*  for  their  beauty  of  plumage.  The  Sacred  Ibis, 
illustrated  on  the  opposite  page,  has  a  history  reach- 
ing far  back  into  the  early  ages.  Although  not  as 
handsome  as  some  other  species,  in  Egypt  it  was  at  one 
time  held  sacred  by  the  people,  and  with  the  crocodile, 
bull  and  cat,  was  reared  in  the  holy  temple  with  a  de- 
gree of  respect  bordering  on  adoration.  When  dead, 
it  was  embalmed,  and  with  great  and  foolish  honors 
consecrated  to  the  catacombs.  It  was  also  depicted  in 
hieroglyphics,  or  picture-writing,  on  the  walls  of  the 


THE  SACnED  IBIS. 


305 


temples   and   tombs,  as  playing  a  conspicuous  part  in 
the  religious   ceremonies. 


THE  SACRED  IBIS. 


It  is  thought  by  some  that  the  Egyptians  held  the 
bird  in  such  reverence  on  account  of  its  coming  and 
going  with  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  river  Nile.  The 
ibis,  being  of  migratory  habits,  visited  Egypt  just  be- 


306  77/5  SACRED  IBIS. 

fore  the  overflow  of  the  river,  as  plenty  of  food  can  be 
had  at  high  water.  This  coming  was  not  attributed  to 
the  instinct  of  the  bird  directing  it,  but  to  a  power  it 
held  over  the  waters.  They  believed  that  the  ibis  came 
and  made  the  inundations  which  the  people  hailed  with 
joy,  as  upon  this  overflow  depended  the  prosperity  of 
the  country  through  the  products  of  the  soil. 

The  plumage  of  the  sacred  ibis  is  white,  with  a  rich 
luster,  excepting  the  feathers  at  the  farther  part  of  the 
back,  which  are  a  glossy  black,  growing  out  long  and 
hanging  gracefully  over  the  ends  of  the  wings  and  tail. 
These  contrast  beautifully  with  the  others.  The  head 
and  neck  are  entirely  destitute  of  feathers,  have  a  black, 
leathery  look,  the  skin  lying  in  uneven  wrinkles  or  folds. 
Its  beak  is  so  long  and  so  large  that  the  people  of  lower 
Egypt  call  the  bird  "  Father  Sickle  Bill."  This  bird 
being  a  grallatory  bird,  that  is,  a  wader  in  the  water,  its 
legs  are  long,  something  like  those  of  the  crane,  heron 
and  stork. 

The  ibis  is  very  indolent,  and  does  not  appear  to 
care  particularly  for  company.  It  may  be  seen  sitting 
for  a  long  time  on  a  high  branch  of  some  tree,  or  mov- 
ing leisurely  along  the  bank  of  a  stream  when  in  quest 
of  food ;  seldom  can  any  great  number  be  found  con- 
gregated together.  Its  food  is  chiefly  shell  animals, 
such  as  are  found  both  upon  land  and  in  the  water,  but 
it  eats  insects,  worms  and  small  reptiles,  when  the 
former  cannot  be  obtained.  On  the  wing  it  is  quite 
powerful,  and  will  go  a  long  distance  without  rest.  A 
flock  in  flight  moves  something  as  the  wild  geese  of 
this  country  do,  and  keep  up  a  peculiar  cry,  as  do 
the  geese.  It  does  not  breed  in  Egypt,  but  goes  into 
the  interior  of  Africa  to  raise  its  young. 

In  the  warmer  parts  of  America,  and  especially  in 


THE  SACRED  IBIS. 


307 


Florida  and  Mexico,  there  is  a  species  of  this  bird 
called  the  glossy  ibis.  The  plumage  is  a  dark  brown, 
glossed  with  purple  and  green.  The  head  and  neck 
dark  chocolate,  legs  and  toes  green.  Its  habits  are 
very  much  the  same  as  those  of  the  first  mentioned, 
and  being  also  an  inhabitant  of  Africa,  it  received 
honors  from  the  Egyptians  while  alive,  and  sometimes 
after  death  was  embalmed  in  the  sacred  tombs.  The 
species,  we  believe,  is  also  found  in  England  and  the 
West  Indies.  Its  body  is  about  twenty-two  inches 
long. 

The  most  peculiar  of  this  family  of  birds  is  the 
species  found  only  in  Australia,  called  the  straw- 
necked  ibis,  deriving  its  name  from  the  long,  delicate 
and  fringe-like  feathers  which  hang  down  from  the 
front  side  of  the  neck  and  throat.  These  feather- 
shafts  are  said  to  closely  resemble  small  yellow  straws, 
and  afford  a  pretty  contrast  with  the  glossy  green  of 
the  breast  and  wings  and  the  pure  white  of  the  upper 
portion  of  the  neck.  It  is  very  graceful  in  its  move- 
ments, passing  over  the  ground  in  a  stately  manner, 
and,  unlike  the  sacred  ibis,  is  of  social  habits.  When 
feeding  they  pack  closely  together  and  keep  in  con- 
stant motion,  their  bills  and  tails  making  a  very  singu- 
lar appearance,  showing  many  brilliant  colors  as  they 
change  from  the  shadow  to  sunlight  in  their  motion 


308  TREELESS   JUDEA. 


TREELESS  JUDEA. 

HE  only  trees  one  meets  are  the  olives,  which,, 
however,  are  by  no  means  plentiful  in  Judea,  and 
mostly  old  and  stunted-looking.  In  Samaria  we 
saw  several  considerable  plantations  of  them,  but 
1  yet  that  country  is  also  sadly  deficient  of  trees. 
Where  now  is  the  oak  tree  on  which  Absalom  hung  by 
his  bushy  locks  ?  There  is,  I  believe,  only  one  remaining 
sufficiently  large  for  this  ;  and  yet  we  read  that  the 
"  Wood  of  Ephraim,"  where  he  was  defeated,  destroyed 
more  men  than  did  the  sword.  And  where  is  the 
sycamore  tree  upon  which  Zaccheus  climbed?  I  doubt 
if  there  be  one  such  within  many  miles  ;  and  yet  we 
know  that  Jericho  was  once  richly  clothed  with  trees- 
and  verdure,  and  called  the  "  City  of  Palms."  Indeed, 
that  Palestine  generally  was  once  extremely  fertile,  and 
rich  in  woods  and  verdure,  is  evident  from  the  meaning 
of  many  of  the  scriptural  proper  names.  There  is 
along  almost  every  little  water-course  a  number  of  what 
are  called  trees,  but  they  are  generally  willows  or  mere 
copses  of  brush-wood.  A  tree  of  any  description,  of 
sufficient  size  to  make  an  ordinary  beam  for  building 
purposes,  is  quite  a  rarity  —  such  are  only  to  be  found 
miles  apart.  The  vine,  so  much  alluded  to  in  the  Bible, 
is  somewhat  rarely  seen  ;  but  that  it  was  extensively 
grown  is  evident  by  the  traces  of  terraces  upon  the 
steepest  hills  still  abundantly  visible.  Then,  as  to  the 
flowers  —  "  The  Rose  of  Sharon  "  and  the  "  Lily  of  the 
Valley  "  cannot  be  found.  There  are  many  wild-flowers 
certainly,  but  generally  they  grow  out  of  a  "  dry  ground," 
and  have,  with  very  good  blossoms,  almost  a  greea 


THE  MAN  OF  LITERATURE.  3Og 

foliage.  "  Thorns  and  briers  "  are  abundant,  but  very 
little  foliage  also,  and  seem  useful  only  for  burning. 
The  fig-trees,  even,  are  few  and  far  between,  and  the 
orange,  apricot  and  almond  still  more  so.  The  fields 
are  not  inclosed,  except  in  some  rare  cases,  where  a 
wise  husbandman  has  gathered  the  loose  stones  into 
piles  around  his  border.  Hedges  are  rare,  but  when 
seen  'they  are  generally  formed  of  large  cacti  covered 
with  dust,  and  having  in  the  twilight  a  somewhat  weird 
look.  Cultivated  lands  in  Judea  are  very  rare,  and 
even  in  Samaria  are  much  covered  with  stones,  making 
plowing,  with  the  miserable  piece  of  crooked  wood,  a 
very  superficial  operation.  We  felt  surprised  and 
ashamed  oftener  than  once  to  see  our  dragoman  (who 
frequently  rode  considerably  in  advance)  lead  his  fol- 
lowers right  through  a  field  of  growing  corn,  without 
the  slightest  compunction,  or  any  consideration  for  the 
husbandman,  merely  to  save  a  few  minutes'  time  in 

f^ing  to  see  some  object  or  reach  some  desired  path, 
he  inhabitants  seem  so  accustomed  to  submission  to 
Turkish  oppression  that  no  opposition  was  offered. 


THE    MAN    OF    LITERATURE. 

LOSELY  allied  with  the  pleasures  of  art  are 
those  of  literature,  and  these  perhaps  we  might, 

r5?r5^    if  anywhere,  have  expected  to  find  an  exemp- 
tion from   that  law  which  has  stamped   on  every 
unsanctified    enjoyment    the    mark  of  vanity  and 
vexation  of  spirit.     "  If  to  know  wisdom,"  says  a 
popular   living  writer  "  were   to   practice  it ;    if   fame 


THE  MAN   OF  LITERATURE. 

brought  true  dignity  and  peace  of  mind  ;  if  happiness 
consisted  in  surrounding  the  imagination  with  ideal 
beauty,  a  literary  life  would  be  the  most  enviable  which 
this  world  affords.  But  the  truth  is  far  otherwise. 
Look  at  the  biography  of  authors!  Except  the  New- 
gate Calendar,  it  is  the  most  sickening  chapter  in  the 
history  of  man."  As  one  of  the  most  striking  instances 
of  the  mirage  of  literature  in  modern  times  —  as  a  con- 
vincing evidence  of  the  inefficacy  of  the  highest  genius 
to  secure  permanent  happiness  to  its  possessor  —  we 
select,  as  our  type,  Sir  Walter  Scott,  the  man  of 
literature. 

All  influences  which  could  promise  happiness  or 
success  were  crowded  around  this  remarkable  man. 
His  professional  pursuits  furnished  him  with  ample  leis- 
ure, and  an  income  bordering  on  affluence.  His  natural 
disposition,  which  was  singularly  amiable  and  gener- 
ous, and  accompanied  by  a  chivalrous  sense  of  honor, 
procured  him  the  attachment  of  numerous  friends.  He 
enjoyed,  too,  in  a  remarkable  degree,  the  sweets  of  a 
happy  home.  Thus,  on  grounds  entirely  independent 
of  his  literary  powers,  he  was  in  possession  of  many 
of  the  elements  of  worldly  comfort.  In  addition,  how- 
ever, to  the  blessings  we  have  enumerated,  he  was 
gifted  with  a  genius  of  the  highest  order.  Much  as 
the  Christian  must  deplore  the  misapplication,  in  many 
respects,  of  that  genius,  he  must  acknowledge  the  ap- 
propriateness of  the  eulogium : 

"  Brother  of  Homer,  and  of  him 
Who  struck  the  lyre  by  Avon's  stream, 
Time  shall  through  many  a  cycle  be, 
Ere  he  shall  see  a  fourth  like  thee." 

Never,  perhaps,  in  any  period  of  the  world's  history, 
did  literary  talent  receive  a  homage  so  universal  as 


THE  MAN  OF  LITERA  TURE.  3  j  j 

that  of  Scott.  His  reputation  was  co-extensive,  not 
only  with  the  English  language,  but  with  the  bound- 
aries of  civilization.  It  has  been  the  lot  of  many 
meritorious  authors  to  be  unable  to  procure  a  profitable 
return  for  their  writings.  In  one  year,  however, 
Scott's  productions  yielded  him  the  enormous  revenue 
of  $75,000.  Other  writers  have  been  condemned  to 
wait  a  lifetime  before  they  saw  their  works  approved  ; 
but  Scott's  sprang  into  popularity  the  first  day  they 
issued  from  the  press,  and  procured  their  author  an 
admiration  that  was  almost  idolatrous.  The  king  con- 
ferred on  him  a  baronetcy,  accompanying  that  dignity 
with  special  marks  of  royal  favor.  When  he  traveled 
abroad,  his  appearance  created  an  enthusiasm,  and 
attracted  a  crowd  of  spectators,  more  like  that  which 
attends  the  passage  of  a  monarch  than  the  movements 
of  a  private  individual.  "  If  his  carriage,"  says  his 
biographer,  describing  Scott's  visit  to  Ireland,  "was 
recognized,  the  street  was  sure  to  be  crowded  before 
he  came  out  again,  so  as  to  make  his  departure  as  slow 
as  a  procession.  When  he  entered  a  street,  the  watch- 
word was  passed  down  like  lightning  on  both  sides, 
and  the  shopkeepers  and  their  wives  stood  bowing 
all  the  way  down  ;  while  the  mob  and  boys  huzzaed 
as  at  the  chariot-wheels  of  a  conqueror." 

All  the  good  things,  as  they  are  termed,  of  this  life 
were  in  Scott's  possession.  His  mansion  at  Abbotsford 
realized  the  highest  conception  of  a  poetical  imagination. 
"  It  seems,"  says  one  who  visited  it,  "  like  a  poem  in 
stone."  "  This  house,"  said  another  distinguished  writer, 
"  is  like  places  we  dream  about."  The  company  which 
crowded  around  the  man  of  genius  was  no  less  wonder- 
ful. The  highest  nobleman  felt  honored  in  being  allowed 
to  take  a  place  at  his  board,  around  which  were  col- 


«  ,  2  THE  MAN   OF  LITER  A  TURE. 

lected  from  every  part  of  the  kingdom  persons  eminent 
in  the  various  walks  of  life.  Each  day  produced  some 
novelty.  Now  a  traveler  recounted  the  wonders  he  had 
witnessed  in  foreign  lands.  Now  a  philosopher,  like 
Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  detailed  recent  discoveries  in  sci- 
ence. Now  a  poet,  or  a  painter,  gave  animation  to  the 
conversation  by  his  genius.  All  sources  of  intellectual 
enjoyment  were  crowded  together.  It  was  worldly 
pleasure  in  its  most  concentrated  form  ;  and  well  might 
one  of  the  visitors  exclaim:  "Surely  Sir  Walter  Scott 
is,  or  ought  to  be,  a  happy  man!"  And  yet  all  this  was 
but  the  mirage.  Feelingly  does  one,  who  was  a  witness 
of  the  pleasures  of  this  man  of  genius  in  his  palmiest 
days,  exclaim :  "  Death  has  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  that 
happy  circle.  Bright  eyes  long  since  closed  in  dust, 
gay  voices  forever  silenced,  seem  to  haunt  me  as  I 
write."  A  shock  of  commercial  adversity  ruined  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  and  dispersed  forever  the  brilliant  assem- 
blies which  had  gathered  around  his  board.  The  death 
of  one  who  was  dearest  to  him  followed  close  upon  this 
blow.  What  consolation  could  literature  then  afford 
him  in  the  hour  of  trial  ?  Let  Sir  Walter's  own  touch- 
ing words  reply  :  "  When  I  think,"  he  writes,  at  a  time 
when  leaving  Abbotsford  apparently  forever,  "  when  I 
think  what  this  place  now  is,  with  what  it  has  been  not 
long  ago,  I  think  my  heart  will  break.  Lonely,  aged, 
deprived  of  all  my  family,  I  am  an  impoverished  and  an 
embarrassed  man."  At  another  time  he  writes  :  "  Death 
has  closed  the  dark  avenue  of  love  and  friendship.  I 
look  at  them  as  through  the  grated  door  of  a  burial- 
place,  filled  with  monuments  of  those  who  once  were 
dear  to  me,  and  with  no  other  wish  than  that  it  may 
open  for  me  at  no  distant  period.  Not  long  after,  he 
writes  in  the  same  strain  :  "  Some  new  object  of  com- 


THE  MAN  OF  LITERATURE. 


313 


plaint  comes  every  moment.  Sicknesses  come  thicker 
and  thicker  ;  friends  are  fewer  and  fewer.  The  recollec- 
tion of  youth,  health  and  powers  of  activity,  neither 
improved  nor  enjoyed,  is  a  poor  strain  of  comfort.  The 
best  is,  the  long  halt  will  arrive  at  length,  and  close  all." 
Such  was  the  confession  of  one  who  had  drunk  so  largely 
of  the  world's  cup  of  enjoyment.  Oh,  how  emphat- 
ically does  it  warn  those  whose  hearts  are  still  set  upon 
similar  vanities  ! 

The  closing  scene  at  last  came,  and  is  not  less  touch- 
ing than  the  preceding  passages.  A  most  honorable 
attempt  to  pay  off  his  creditors  had,  by  overtaxing  his 
energies,  brought  on  an  incurable  disease.  Sir  Walter 
requested,  we  are  told,  to  be  wheeled  to  his  desk.  His 
daughter  put  his  pen  into  his  hand,  but  his  fingers  re- 
fused to  do  their  office.  Silent  tears  rolled  down  his 
cheeks.  "  Take  me  back  to  my  own  room,"  he  said. 
"  There  is  no  rest  for  Sir  Walter  but  in  his  grave."  A 
few  days  afterward  he  died.  In  such  gloomy  clouds 
did  the  sun  of  the  man  of  literature  set.  Otway  died 
of  starvation ;  Voltaire,  in  the  height  of  his  literary 
glory,  wished  that  he  had  never  been  born  ;  but  none  of 
these  instances  proclaim  so  touchingly  as  the  career  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott  that  the  highest  genius,  when  not 
sanctified  by  being  devoted  to  the  glory  of  God,  is,  in 
its  results,  illusive  as  the  mirage. 


314  THE  MAN  OF    WIT  AND   HUMOR. 


THE  MAN  OF  WIT  AND  HUMOR. 

T  may  be  thought  that  they  who  promote  mirth 
so  much  in  others,  and  who  treat  life  as  if  it  were 
a  jest,  have  themselves  found  out  the  true  secret 
of  enjoyment.  Very  different,  however,  is  the  re- 
sult. There  is  a  mirth  in  the  midst  of  which  the 
heart  is  sad,  and  a  laughter  the  end  whereof  is 
heaviness.  Not  that  there  is  anything  sinful  in 
mirth ;  not  that  it  is  not  a  quality  which,  when  rightly 
directed,  may  be  turned  to  useful  purposes  ;  but  that 
when  unsanctified,  it  is,  as  a  source  of  happiness,  a 
delusion  and  a  mirage.  Cervantes,  at  a  time  when  all 
Spain  was  laughing  at  the  humorous  flights  of  his  pen, 
was  overwhelmed  with  a  deep  cloud  of  melancholy, 
Moliere,  the  first  of  French  comic  writers,  carried  into 
the  domestic  circle  a  sadness  which  the  greatest  worldly 
prosperity  could  never  dispel.  Samuel  Foote,  a  noted 
wit  of  the  last  century,  died  of  a  broken  heart.  D'Israeli 
mentions,  that  one  morning,  meeting  in  a  bookseller's 
shop  a  squalid  and  wretched-looking  man,  the  very 
picture  of  misery,  he  was  astonished  to  learn  that  he 
was  a  person  who  was  amusing  the  metropolis  by  his 
humorous  effusions.  The  anecdote  is  well  known  of 
the  physician  recommending  a  man,  who  was  pining 
under  melancholy,  to  attend,  as  a  means  of  cure,  the 
performances  of  a  noted  comic  actor,  and  of  being  in- 
formed that  his  patient  was  the  actor  in  question  — 
himself  wretched,  while  amusing  others.  Captain 
Morris,  a  witty  writer  of  considerable  reputation  at  the 
commencement  of  the  present  century,  when  aged, 
deserted,  and  well-nigh  impoverished,  described  in  the 


THE  MAN  OF    WIT  AND  HUMOR.  3  j  r 

following  lines  the  little  satisfaction  which  the  retrospect 
of  his  life  of  folly  could  afford  him  :  — 

"My  friends  of  youth,  manhood,  and  age, 
At  length  are  all  laid  in  the  ground  ; 
A  unit  I  stand  on  life's  stage, 
With  nothing  but  vacancy  round. 
I  wander  bewildered  and  lost, 
Without  impulse  or  interest  in  view, 
And  all  hope  of  my  heart  is,  at  most, 
Soon  to  bid  this  cold  desert  adieu." 

As  one  of  the  most  striking  examples  in  modern 
times  of  the  unsatisfactory  nature  of  a  life  of  frivolity, 
we  select  Theodore  Hook,  The  Man  of  Wit  and 
Humor. 

He  was  the  son  of  a  musical  composer  of  considera- 
ble eminence  in  his  day.  He  was,  by  death,  early  de- 
prived of  the  training  of  a  mother,  a  circumstance  to 
which  much  of  the  unhappiness  of  his  future  career  may 
be  attributed.  His  father,  returning  home  one  evening, 
was  astonished  at  his  son,  then  a  mere  child,  producing 
two  ballads  which,  with  appropriate  music,  he  had  him- 
self composed ;  the  one  plaintive,  the  other  humorous. 
The  prognostics  of  future  distinction  thus  afforded  were 
verified  by  the  event.  At  the  age  of  sixteen,  a  time 
when  other  youths  are  just  leaving  school,  he  was, 
from  his  powers  of  dramatic  composition,  in  the  receipt 
of  a  considerable  income,  and  enjoying  great  popularity. 

His  name  was  blazoned  as  a  youthful  genius  in  the 
newspapers ;  his  portrait  was  taken,  and  he  had  free 
admission  to  the  places  of  public  amusement.  Many  a 
young  man  in  the  present  day  would  have  envied  his 
position  as  containing  all  that  was  desirable  !  Life  lay 
before  him  like  a  smooth  ocean  ;  and,  intoxicated  by 
success,  he  launched  his  bark  fearlessly  upon  it.  Youth 
stood  at  the  prow,  mirth  trimmed  the  sails,  folly  took 


3i6 


THE  MAN   OF    WIT  AND   HUMOR. 


the  helm,  while  the  pennon  which  streamed  in  the  air 
bore  the  words  "  Rejoice,  O  young  man,  in  thy  youth  ! 
let  thy  heart  cheer  thee  in  the  days  of  thy  youth,  and 
walk  in  the  ways  of  thine  heart,  and  in  the  sight  of 
thine  eyes." 

At  this  time  a  taste  for  practical  joking  had  seized 
young  men.  To  pull  off  knockers  and  bell-handles,  to 
carry  away  tradesmen's  signs,  and  to  overturn  the  boxes 
of  sleeping  watchmen,  were  considered  the  marks  of  a 
generous  and  manly  spirit.  Hook  plunged  into  amuse- 
ments, and  kept  a  private  museum  containing  abstracted 
bells,  knockers  and  sign-boards.  We  feel  some  scruple 
in  making  allusion  to  such  disgraceful  follies  ;  but  it  is 
necessary,  for  our  illustration,  that  the  gay  as  well  as 
the  grave  side  of  the  picture  should  be  shown.  On  one 
occasion  Hook's  friend  pointed  out  to  him,  as  an  appro- 
priate specimen  of  natural  history  for  his  museum,  a 
new  gilt  eagle  of  large  dimensions,  which  had  been 
erected  over  a  grocer's  shop.  A  few  weeks  afterward, 
the  same  friend  happening  to  be  dining  with  Hook,  the 
latter,  toward  the  close  of  the  entertainment,  ordered 
"  the  game  to  be  served  up."  Immediately,  to  the  aston- 
ishment of  the  visitor,  the  servant  entered  the  room, 
staggering  under  the  burden  of  a  dish  of  unusual  size. 
On  uncovering  it  there  was  produced  the  identical  eagle 
which  Hook,  as  a  practical  joke,  had  contrived  to  carry 
off.  Such  were  the  contemptible  frivolities  in  which  the 
man  of  humor  wasted  his  youthful  prime. 

Among  other  accomplishments  for  which  he  was  dis- 
tinguished, was  a  remarkable  power  of  producing  ex- 
tempore poetry.  At  a  dinner  party  he  would,  without 
premeditation,  compose  a  verse  on  every  person  in  the 
room,  full  of  point  and  wit,  and  with  true  rhyme.  Sheri- 
dan, the  orator,  who  was  present  upon  one  of  these 


THE  MAN   OF    WIT  AND  HUMOR.  3 1  7 

occasions,  declared  that  he  could  not  have  imagined 
such  a  talent  possible  had  he  not  witnessed  the  exhibi- 
tion of  it. 

So  confident  was  Hook  in  his  powers  of  humor,  that, 
passing  with  a  friend  a  house  in  which  a  party  was 
assembling  for  dinner,  he  undertook,  although  quite 
unacquainted  with  the  owner  of  the  house,  or  any  of  the 
guests,  to  join  them,  and  instructed  his  friend  to  call  for 
him  at  ten  o'clock.  Knocking  at  the  door  accordingly, 
he  gave  his  hat  confidently  to  the  servant,  and  was 
ushered  upstairs.  Entering  the  drawing-room  he  af- 
fected to  have  for  the  first  time  discovered  his  mistake, 
and  poured  out  such  sallies  of  wit  that,  as  he  antici- 
pated, the  host,  although  ignorant  even  of  his  name, 
pressed  him  to  stay  to  dinner.  When  his  friend  Mr. 
Terry  called,  ignorant  whether  he  should  find  him  there 
or  in  the  neighboring  watch-house,  he  was  astonished,  on 
being  shown  into  the  drawing-room,  to  see  the  man  of 
humor  seated  at  the  pianoforte,  delivering  some  extem- 
pore poetry,  which,  upon  perceiving  the  entrance  of  his 
friend,  he  wound  up  with  the  following  stanza  : 

"  I'm  very  much  pleased  with  your  fare, 
Your  cellar's  as  good  as  your  cook  ; 
My  friend's  Mr.  Terry  the  player, 
And  I'm  Mr.  Theodore  Hook." 

The  fame  of  the  man  of  wit  reached  even  royalty 
itself.  The  prince  regent  was  so  fascinated  with  him 
that  he  appointed  him  treasurer  to  the  island  of  the 
Mauritius,  with  a  salary  of  ,£2,000  a  year.  He  here 
gave  himself  up  to  every  enjoyment.  "  This  island,"  he 
wrote  home  to  his  friends,  "  is,  fairyland.  The  mildness 
of  the  air,  the  clearness  of  the  atmosphere,  the  liveli- 
ness of  the  place  itself,  all  combine  to  render  it  fascinat- 
ing. Every  hour  seems  happier  than  the  last."  Here, 


318  THE  MAN  OF    WIT  AND   HUMOR. 

then,  was  Hook  at  the  pinnacle  of  his  glory.  Rich, 
popular,  witty,  and  full  of  friends,  he  had  surely  found 
the  secret  of  happiness  !  No  ;  he  had  only  followed  the 
mirage. 

Business  and  pleasure,  in  the  worldly  sense  of  the 
latter  term,  are  rarely  compatible.  A  deficiency  of 
j£i  2,000,  arising  not  from  fraud  but  from  gross  care- 
lessness, was  found  in  the  treasury.  He  was  suddenly 
arrested  in  a  ball-room,  and  sent  home  a  prisoner  for 
debt  to  England,  stripped  of  all  his  honors,  and  pen- 
niless. Happy  would  it  have  been  for  him  had  this 
blow  awakened  him  from  his  dream  of  folly ;  but  alas  ! 
as  one  delusion  was  dissipated  another  took  its  place. 
By  his  pen  he  soon  achieved  literary  eminence  and  an 
income  of  ,£4,000  a  year.  Seated  at  the  tables  of  the 
great,  he  became  again,  from  his  wit  and  humor,  the 
life  of  every  party.  His  versatile  genius  sparkled  more 
brilliantly  than  ever,  and  he  was  the  admired  of  all 
admirers.  In  the  midst  of  his  gaiety,  however,  he  had 
an  aching  heart.  From  the  brilliant  saloon  he  would 
retire  to  his  lonely  apartment ;  and  there,  with  jaded 
spirits,  sit  down  to  write,  for  his  bread,  some  work  of 
humor,  racking,  as  has  been  well  observed,  his  imagi- 
nation for  mirth  with  anguish  at  his  heart.  "  We  may 
venture,"  says  one  who  appears  to  have  known  him 
intimately,  "  we  may  venture  to  supply  by  way  of  speci- 
men a  sketch,  by  no  means  overcharged,  of  one  oi 
those  restless  life-exhausting  days  in  which  the  seem- 
ingly iron  energies  of  Hook  were  prematurely  con- 
sumed. A  late  breakfast  —  his  spirits  jaded  by  the 
exertions  of  yesterday,  and  further  depressed  by  some 
pecuniary  difficulty  —  large  arrears  of  literary  toil  to 
be  made  up  —  the  meal  to  be  sent  away  untasted  — 
every  power  of  his  mind  forced  and  strained  for  the 


THE  MAN   OF    WIT  AND  HUMOR.  319 

next  four  or  five  hours  upon  the  subject  that  happens 
to  be  in  hand  —  then  a  rapid  drive  to  town,  and  a  visit 
first  to  one  club,  where,  the  center  of  an  admiring  cir- 
cle, his  intellectual  faculties  are  again  on  the  stretch, 
and  again  aroused  and  sustained  by  artificial  means  — 
the  same  thing  repeated  at  a  second  club  —  a  ballot  or 
a  general  meeting  at  a  third  —  a  chop  in  the  commit- 
tee-room, and  then  a  tumbler  of  brandy-and-water  or 
two ;  and,  we  fear,  the  catalogue  would  not  close  here. 
Off  next  to  take  his  place  at  some  lordly  banquet,  where 
the  fire  of  wit  is  to  be  again  stirred  into  a  blaze,  and 
fed  by  fresh  supplies  of  potent  stimulants.  Lady  A. 
has  never  heard  one  of  his  delightful  extempores  ;  the 
pianoforte  is  at  hand  —  fresh  and  more  vigorous  efforts 
of  fancy,  memory  and  application  are  called  for;  all 
the  wondrous  machinery  of  the  brain  taxed  and  strained 
to  the  very  utmost ;  smiles  and  applause  reward  the 
exertion,  and  perhaps  one  more  song  is  craved  as  a 
special  favor.  He  retires  at  last;  but  not  to  rest  —  not 
to  home.  Half  an  hour  at  Crockford's  is  proposed  by 
some  gay  companion  as  they  quit  together.  We  need 
not  continue  the  picture.  The  half-hour  is  quadrupled, 
and  the  excitement  of  the  preceding  part  of  the  even- 
ing is  as  nothing  to  that  which  now  ensues.  By  the 
time  he  reaches  home  the  reaction  is  complete ;  and 
in  a  state  of  utter  prostration,  bodily  and  mental,  he 
seeks  his  pillow,  to  run,  perhaps,  the  same  course  on 
the  morrow." 

Such  was  the  daily  life  of  the  man  of  wit  and  humor  ! 
Hook  has  left  behind  him  a  journal,  some  extracts  from 
which  appeared  in  the  Quarterly  Review  a  few  years 
ago.  It  is  a  harrowing  description  of  splendid  mis- 
ery—  Of  the  life  of  one  who,  while  in  the  world's 
opinion  full  of  enjoyment,  was  in  truth  thoroughly 


320 


THE  MAN    OF    WIT  AND  HUMOR. 


wretched.  Let  a  few  brief  extracts  suffice  :  "  To-day 
I  am  forcing  myself,  against  my  inclination,  to  write. 
The  old  sickness  and  faintness  of  heart  came  over  me, 
and  I  could  not  go  out.  No ;  it  is  only  to  the  grave 
that  I  must  be  carried.  If  my  poor  children  were  safe 
I  would  not  care.  Another  year  now  opens  upon  me 
with  a  vast  load  of  debt,  and  many  encumbrances.  I 
am  suffering  under  a  constant  depression  of  spirits 
which  no  one  who  sees  me  in  society  ever  dreams  of." 

The  close  was,  however,  approaching.  One  day,  at 
a  dinner  party,  all  were  struck  with  his  ghastly  paleness. 
Turning  round  to  a  mirror,  he  himself  exclaimed,  "Ah  t 
I  see  how  it  is.  I  look  just  as  I  am  —  done  up  in  mind, 
in  body,  and  purse."  Returning  home,  he  took  to  his 
bed.  A  friend  calling  on  him  found  him  in  an  undress. 
"  Here  you  see  me,"  he  said.  "  All  my  buckling,  and 
padding,  and  washing  dropped  for  ever ;  and  I  a  gray- 
headed  old  man."  A  few  days  afterward  he  died. 

Such  was  the  end  of  the  man  of  wit  and  humor. 
His  powers  had  all  been  wasted  in  the  service  of  the 
world.  He  had  followed  mirth  and  folly  as  his  grand 
object  in  life.  Oh,  how  emphatically  had  they  proved 
to  him  —  only  the  mirage  ! 


THE  DRUIDS.  32! 


THE    DRUIDS. 

N  a  deep,  rocky  glen,  in  a  romantic  spot  near 
London,  England,  is  found  the  ruins  of  one  of 
the  Druids'  temples,  that  has  for  centuries  at- 
v,  tracted  the  attention  of  curious  visitors.  The 
f  Druids  were  once  a  powerful  priesthood,  but  they 
flourished  so  long  ago  that  all  the  knowledge  we 
have  as  to  how  their  temples  looked,  or  how  their 
ceremonies  were  performed,  is  furnished  by  the  vaguest 
traditions,  and  yet  the  ruins  of  their  dilapidated  stone 
monuments  are  strewed  over  the  surface  of  France  and 
Britain. 

Julius  Caesar  left  the  best  description  of  the  char- 
acter and  functions  of  the  Druids  that  we  have.  He 
says: 

"  They  attend  divine  worship,  perform  public  and 
private  sacrifices,  and  expound  matters  of  religion.  A 
great  number  of  youths  gather  round  them  for  the 
sake  of  education,  and  enjoy  the  highest  honor  in  the 
nation  —  for  nearly  all  public  and  private  quarrels  come 
under  their  jurisdiction.  They  fix  rewards  and  pun- 
ishments ;  and  should  any  one,  whether  a  private  in- 
dividual or  public  man,  disobey  their  decrees,  then 
they  exclude  him  from  the  sacrifices.  Everybody 
recoils  from  them,  and  shuns  their  society  and  con- 
versation, lest  he  should  be  injured  by  associating 
with  them. 

"All  these  Druids  have  one  chief,  who  enjoys  the 
highest  authority  among  them.  When  he  dies,  he  is 
succeeded  by  the  member  of  the  order  most  promi- 
nent among  the  others,  if  there  be  any  such  single 


322 


THE  DRUIDS. 


individual ;  if,  however,  there  are  several  men  equally 
distinguished,  the  successor  is  elected  by  the  Druids. 
Sometimes  they  even  go  to  war  about  this  supremacy. 
At  a  certain  time  of  the  year  the  Druids  assemble  in 
a  sacred  place ;  to  that  place  are  gathered  from  every- 
where all  persons  that  have  quarrels,  and  they  abide 


RUINS   OF  A   DRUIDS'   TEMPLE. 


It  is  believed   that 
Britania,    and    then 


by  their  judgments  and  decrees, 
this  institution  was  invented  in 
transplanted  to  Gaul. 

"  The  Druids  take  no  part  in  warfare ;  nor  do  they 
pay  taxes  like  the  rest  of  the  people ;  they  are  exempt 
from  military  service  and  from  all  public  burdens.  At- 
tracted by  such  rewards,  many  come  to  be  instructed 


NOTED  MEN   OF   THE  PAST.  323 

by  their  own  choice,  while  others  are  sent  by  their 
parents.  They  are  reported  to  learn  in  the  school  a 
great  number  of  verses,  so  that  some  remain  there 
twenty  years.  They  think  it  an  unhallowed  thing  to 
commit  their  lore  to  writing,  though  in  other  public 
and  private  affairs  of  life  they  make  use  of  the  Greek 
alphabet. 

"  Beyond  all  things  they  desire  to  inspire  the  belief 
that  men's  souls  do  not  perish,  but  transmigrate  from 
one  individual  to  another;  and  they  hold  that  people 
are  thereby  most  strongly  urged  to  bravery,  as  the 
fear  of  death  is  thus  destroyed.  Besides,  they  hold  a 
great  many  discourses  about  the  stars  and  their  motion, 
about  the  size  of  the  world  and  of  various  countries, 
about  the  nature  of  things,  about  the  power  and  might 
of  the  immortal  gods ;  and  they  instruct  the  youth  in 
these  subjects." 


NOTED  MEN  OF  THE  PAST. 

I  HI  LIP  Melancthon  was  born  at  Bretheim,  Feb- 
ruary 1 6,    1497,  and  died  at  Witteinberg,  Ger- 
many, April   19,  1568.     He  was  a  man  of  great 
classical    erudition    and    associated   with     Martin 
Luther.     His  head  was  lofty  in  the  coronal  region 
and  prominently  intellectual.     His  nature  was  be- 
nevolent and  conscientious. 

John  Wesley,  the  founder  of  Armenian  Methodism, 
was  born  at  Epworth,  England,  June  17,  1703,  and  died 
at  the  age  of  eighty-eight,  March  2,  1791. 

Jonathan  Edwards,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  was  born  at  Wind- 


324  NOTED   MEN  OF   THE  PAST. 

sor,  Conn.,  October  5,  1703,  and  died  at  Princeton, 
N.  J.,  March  22,  1 748.  He  was  a  speculative  philosopher 
and  celebrated  metaphysician. 

Lyman  Beecher,  D.D.,  was  born  at  New  Haven, 
Conn.,  October  12,  1775,  and  died  in  Brooklyn,  Jan- 
uary 10,  1863.  He  was  a  Presbyterian  clergyman,  with  a 
long,  broad  and  high  head.  He  was  noted  as  a  philan- 
thropist, a  philosopher,  a  wit,  a  critic,  a  debater,  and 
best  of  all,  a  just  man. 

William  Channing,  D.D.,  a  distinguished  preacher  of 
the  Unitarian  persuasion,  was  born  at  Newport,  R.  I., 
April  7, 1780;  died  at  Bennington,  Vt,  October  2,  1842. 
He  was  unselfish,  unperverted,  pure-minded  and  large- 
hearted.  He  was  spiritual  and  benevolent,  and  his  face 
beamed  with  "good  will  toward  men." 

Julius  Csesar,  the  greatest  commander  of  antiquity, 
was  born  July  12,  one  hundred  years  before  Christ,  and 
suffered  assassination  by  Brutus,  March  15,  forty-four 
years  before  Christ. 

Hannibal,  an  illustrious  Carthaginian  general,  re- 
nowned for  his  successes  in  Italy  against  the  Romans, 
born  two  hundred  and  forty-seven  years  before  Christ, 
died  in  exile,  self-poisoned,  one  hundred  and  eighty- 
three  years  before  Christ. 

Francisco  Pizarro,  the  conqueror  of  Peru,  born  at 
Truxillo,  Spain,  about  1471,  was  assassinated  at  Lima, 
Peru,  June  26,  1541. 

Napoleon  Bonaparte,  born  at  Ajaccis,  Island  of 
Corsica,  February  5,  1768,  died  in  exile  at  St.  Helena, 
May  5,  1821. 

Oliver  Cromwell,  the  "  protector  "  and  able  English 
general,  was  born  at  Huntington,  April  25,  1599,  and 
died  September  3,  1659. 

Duke  of  Wellington,  celebrated  as  the  conqueror  of 


OLIVER  CROMWELL. 


326 


NOTED  MEN  OF   THE  PAST. 


Napoleon,  was  born  in  Ireland,  June  20,  1760,  and  died 
in  London,  September  18,  1852. 

William  Darcey,  the  discoverer  of  the  circulation  of 
the  blood,  was  born  in  Kent,  England,  April  i,  1578, 
and  died  in  London,  June  3,  1657.  He  is  the  author  of 
several  works  on  physiology  which  rank  high  as  medical 
authority. 

John  Abernethy,  the  first  surgeon  who  attempted  the 
operation  of  tying  the  carotid  artery  and  the  external 
iliac  artery,  which  he  performed  successfully,  was  born 
of  Irish  parents,  in  London,  in  1765,  and  died  there  in 
1831. 

Sir  Astley  Cooper,  eminent  as  the  most  successful 
practitioner  of  surgery  in  England,  was  born  in  Nor- 
folk, in  1768,  and  died  in  London,  in  1841. 

Edward  Jeuner,  the  discoverer  of  vaccination,  was 
born  at  Berkeley,  England,  in  1749,  and  died  January 
26,  1823.  He  was  thoughtful,  kind  and  sympathetic 
by  nature. 

Valentine  Mott,  was  a  successful  American  surgeon. 
He  performed  successfully  some  of  the  most  difficult 
and  dangerous  surgical  operations.  His  large  brain 
showed  him  to  be  possessed  of  great  courage  and  self- 
control.  His  features  were  something  of  the  Hebrew 
type.  He  was  born  at  Long  Island,  New  York,  in  1785, 
and  died  in  New  York  city,  in  1865. 

Archimedes,  the  most  distinguished  of  ancient 
mathematicians  and  engineers,  was  born  at  Syracuse, 
in  Sicily,  about  two  hundred  and  ninety-one  years 
before  Christ.  He  demonstrated  the  properties  of  the 
lever.  This  inventor  of  the  hydraulic  screw  said  that 
with  his  lever  power  he  could  lift  the  whole  world  if  a 
foundation  for  its  fulcrum  and  a  standing  place  were 
obtainable. 


NOTED  MEN  OF   THE  PAST. 


327 


John  Gutenberg,  the  inventor  of  printing  by  the 
application  of  movable  wooden  types,  was  born  at 
Sulgelock,  near  Mentz,  Germany,  in  1400,  and  died  in 
1468.  Because  of  his  invention  being  in  advance  of 
his  age  —  he  was  appreciated  like  the  vanguards  of 
all  reforms  —  and  being  accused  of  dealings  with  the 
devil,  he  was  persecuted  accordingly. 

Robert  Fulton,  an  American  engineer,  was  the  first 
successful  experimenter  in  steam  navigation.  He  was 
born  in  Pennsylvania,  in  1755,  and  died  in  New  York, 
in  1815. 

George  Stephenson  comes  next  as  the  projector 
of  the  railway  system  and  inventor  of  the  locomotive. 
He  had  a  grand  head  and  a  face  full  of  character.  He 
was  born  at  Wylam,  England,  in  1787,  and  died  in  1848. 

L.  J.  M.  Daguerre,  inventor  of  the  process  of 
daguerreotyping,  was  born  at  Corneille,  France,  in  1789, 
and  died  in  1851.  How  the  artist  world  should  ap- 
preciate him,  as  the  author  of  the  incomparable  art 
of  making  pictures  by  simple  chemicals  and  sunlight! 
Had  not  the  age  been  fairly  advanced  and  enlightened, 
he  would  have  suffered  persecution  for  practicing 
diablerie. 

James  Watt,  the  improver  and  constructor  of  the 
first  successful  steam  engine,  was  born  at  Greenade, 
Scotland,  in  1736,  and  died  at  Birmingham,  in  1819. 
His  thoughtful  face  had  the  "  I  can  and  I  will"  written 
in  unmistakable  characters  upon  it. 

Sir  Richard  Arkwright,  inventor  of  the  spinning 
frame,  which  has  revolutionized  the  industry  of  the 
world,  was  born  at  Preston,  England,  1732  ;  died,  1792. 

Americus  Vespucci,  from  whom  America  received 
its  name,  was  born  in  Florence,  Italy,  1451,  and  died 
on  the  island  of  Terceira,  1514. 


32S 


NOTED  MEN  OF   THE  PAST. 


Sebastian  Cabot,  the  discoverer  of  the  continent  of 
America  in  1497,  was  born  at  Bristol,  England,  in  1477, 
and  died  seventy  years  later. 

Christopher  Columbus  was  born  in  Genoa,  Italy,  1435, 
and  died  at  Valladolid,  Spain,  1506. 

Giovanna  Verazzano,  who  explored  the  eastern  coast 
of  North  America,  from  Labrador  to  South  Carolina, 
was  born  in  1490,  and  is  supposed  to  have  been  killed 
by  the  Indians  about  1525. 

James  Cook,  the  first  circumnavigator  of  the  world, 
was  born  in  Yorkshire,  England,  1728,  and  was  killed 
by  the  natives  of  the  Sandwich  Islands,  1779. 

Henry  Hudson,  the  explorer  of  the  Hudson  river 
and  Hudson's  Bay,  North  America, was  born  about  1555, 
in  England,  and  was  abandoned  by  a  mutinous  crew  in 
Hudson's  straits,  1610. 

Sir  John  Franklin,  the  distinguished  arctic  explorer, 
was  born  at  Spilsby,  England,  1786.  He  is  supposed  to 
have  perished  on  his  third  expedition,  which  sailed  from 
England  in  1845. 

Dr.  Elisha  Kent  Kane,  the  American  arctic  explorer, 
and  discoverer  of  the  open  polar  sea,  was  born  at  Phila- 
delphia, 1820,  and  died  at  Havana,  1857. 

Socrates,  the  greatest  heathen  philosopher  of  an- 
tiquity, who  maintained  the  existence  of  one  Supreme 
Intelligence,  was  born  in  Attica,  Greece,  470  B.C.,  and 
died  400  B.C.,  in  Athens.  He  died  from  poison,  under 
the  unjust  condemnation  of  the  Athenian  council. 

Aristotle,  the  founder  of  the  "  peripatetic  "  or  walk- 
ing sect  of  philosophers,  was  born  at  Stagyra,  Thrace, 
384  B.C.,  and  died  at  Chaleis,  Eubcea,  322  B.C. 

Plato,  the  father  of  speculative  philosophy,  was  born 
on  the  island  of  yEgina  430  B.C.,  and  died  at  the  age  of 
eighty-one,  at  Athens,  348  B.C. 


NOTED  MEN  OF   THE  PAST. 


329 


Galileo,  the  demonstrator  of  the  solar  system,  and 
the  inventor  of  the  telescope,  was  born  at  Pisa,  1564, 
and  died  at  Florence,  Italy,  1642. 

Francis  Bacon,  author  of  the  "  inductive  "  method  of 
philosophic  investigation,  was  born  at  London,  1560; 
died  1626. 

John  Locke,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  English 
philosophers,  author  of  "  Essay  Concerning  the  Human 
Understanding,"  was  born  at  Wrington,  1632,  and  died 
at  Gates,  in  Essex,  in  1 704. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton,  the  discoverer  of  the  law  of  gravi- 
tation, and  author  of  the  "  Principia,"  was  born  in  Lin- 
colnshire, England,  1 742  ;  died  1 790. 

Adam  Smith,  the  greatest  of  Scotch  moralists,  and 
the  projector  of  industrial  freedom,  was  born  at  Fife- 
shire,  1723,  and  died  in  Edinburgh,  1790. 

Talleyrand,  the  "  prince  of  diplomatists,"  was  born 
in  Paris,  France,  1754;  died,  1838.  Talleyrand  had  a 
strong  body,  a  large  brain,  and  great  perceptive  fac- 
ulties. 

Metternich,  an  Austrian  prince  and  statesman,  was 
born  in  Coblentz,  1773,  and  died  1859.  He  controlled 
the  movements  of  the  allied  powers  in  their  opposition 
to  Napoleon  I.  His  clearness  of  intellect,  his  compre- 
hensiveness and  executiveness,  placed  him  at  the  head 
of  European  affairs.  He  was  handsome,  with  full,  ex- 
pressive eyes,  a  well  formed  nose  and  symmetrical  head. 
With  the  bland  manners  of  the  Frenchman  added  to 
Austrian  dignity  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  he 
was  a  leader  even  of  crowned  heads. 

Daniel  O'Connell,  celebrated  as  an  Irish  politician 
and  reformer,  was  born  in  Kerry,  Ireland,  1775;  died 
in  Genoa,  1847. 

Demosthenes,  the  most  illustrious  of  ancient  orators, 


330  JVOTED  MEN  OF   THE  PAST. 

was  born  in  Pceania,  near  Athens,  385  B.C.  He  died 
from  poison,  taken  to  avoid  falling  into  the  hands  of 
the  Macedonians,  who  tortured  their  prisoners.  His 
death  occurred  322  B.C. 

Cicero,  a  Roman  senator  and  advocate  of  the  high- 
est repute,  was  born  at  Arpenium,  106  B.C.  He  was 
assassinated  by  order  of  Antony,  one  of  the  Triumvi- 
rate, 43  B.C. 

Edmund  Burke,  one  of  the  most  eloquent  of  British 
orators,  was  born  in  Dublin,  1730;  died  at  Beacons- 
field,  1797.  His  nature,  as  represented,  was  sharp  and 
emphatic,  and  full  of  the  fire  of  eloquence. 

William  Pitt,  America's  advocate  in  the  British  Par- 
liament in  1 776,  was  born  in  Westminster,  1 708  ;  died 
at  Hayes,  1778. 

George  Whitefield,  the  founder  of  the  Calvinistic 
Methodists,  was  born  in  Gloucester,  England,  1714; 
died  in  Newburyport,  Massachusetts,  1770.  He  was 
full,  of  enthusiastic  fire,  and  his  words  burst  from  his 
lips  like  a  volcanic  shower.  His  affections  were  strong, 
and  he  was  a  man  of  power. 

William  Wirt,  an  able  lawyer  and  writer,  was  born 
at  Bladensburg,  1772;  died  at  Washington,  1835. 

Mirabeau,  a  noted  French  political  leader,  was  born 
at  Bignon,  near  Lens,  1749;  died  in  Paris  1791. 

Edmund  Kean,  unsurpassed  in  tragedy,  was  born  in 
London,  1790;  died  there,  1833. 


ECCENTRICITIES   OF  GREAT  MEN. 


ECCENTRICITIES   OF    GREAT    MEN. 

OST  geniuses  and  men  of  great  talent  have 
been  known  for  some  peculiar  habit  or  striking 
idiosyncrasy.  Napoleon  would  tremble  with 
fear  at  the  sight  of  a  cat.  General  Elliott,  of 
Gibraltar  fame,  was  always  accompanied  by  a 
number  of  them.  Johnson  liked  to  imbibe  floods 
of  tea  or  wine,  and  yet  be  none  the  worse  for  it.  Por- 
son  drank  everything  that  came  in  his  way.  Visiting 
once  a  friend's  house,  when  evening  came  they  desired 
to  fill  the  lamp,  but  the  bottle  was  empty.  Person 
had  drank  the  spirits  on  the  sly,  not  knowing  it  was 
intended  for  the  lamp.  Douglas  Jerrold  could  not 
bear  the  smell  of  apples.  Cavendish  hated  women. 
If  he  met  one  of  his  own  female  servants  by  accident 
in  any  part  of  the  house,  she  was  instantly  dismissed. 
Garrick  was  vain  almost  to  the  degree  of  insanity. 
Rousseau  was  vain  and  could  write  only  when  dressed 
as  a  fop.  Bulwer  Lytton,  it  is  said,  could  write  best 
when  dressed  in  a  court  suit.  Marlborough  was  a 
miser ;  mended  his  own  stockings  to  save  paying  for 
it,  and  would  walk  home  ever  so  late  at  night  rather 
than  pay  for  a  "chair."  Napoleon  did  his  thinking 
and  formed  his  plans  for  conquest  while  pacing  in  a 
garden,  shrugging  his  shoulders  now  and  then  as  if  to 
help  and  compress  thought.  When  Thiers  was  en- 
gaged in  his  long  and  oratorical  displays,  he  always 
had  beside  him  a  supply  of  rum  and  coffee.  The  coffee 
he  got  direct  from  Mocha.  Gibson  dictated  while 
walking  in  his  room,  like  Scott  and  many  others. 
Moliere  wrote  with  his  knees  near  the  fire,  and  Bacon 


.,-2  ISRAEL   PUTNAM. 

liked  to  study  in  a  small  room,  which,  he  said,  helped 
him  to  condense  his  thoughts.  George  Stephenson 
used  to  lie  in  bed  for  two  or*  three  days,  the  better  to 
"think  out"  his  plans.  It  would  be  better  if  many 
people  would  do  this  who  have  much  thinking  to  do, 
as  rest  favors  abstraction  and  thought,  and  those  who 
have  not  a  vigorous  circulation  find  the  supply  of 
blood  to  the  brain  assisted  by  a  recumbent  position. 


ISRAEL    PUTNAM. 

ROUND  this  revolutionary  hero  clings  a  halo  of 
romance,  so  that   almost  every   school-boy  has 
heard  some  anecdote  of  Putnam  ;  yet  it  will  not 
be  uninteresting,  we    hope,  to  glance    along   the 
history  of  his  life  and  exploits. 

He  was  born  at  Salem  village,  now  Danvers,  in 
Massachusetts,  on  the  i;th  of  January,  1718.  His 
parents  were  in  plain  but  comfortable  circumstances, 
and  he  received  the  common-school  education  afforded 
by  the  ordinary  New  England  town  of  to-day.  He  was 
a  sturdy,  hardy,  independent  boy,  possessed  of  a  gener- 
ous, impulsive  courage  that  was  prompt  to  respond  to 
the  cry  of  the  defenseless.  It  is  related  of  him  that, 
visiting  Boston  in  his  boyhood,  he  was  so  scoffed  at  and 
ridiculed  for  his  awkwardness  by  a  boy  nearly  double 
his  size,  that  at  last  his  patience  yielded  to  anger,  and 
he  administered  a  flagellation  upon  the  impudent  youth 
that  he  remembered  for  the  rest  01  his  life. 

Before  he  attained  his  majority  he  married  a  Miss 


ISRAEL   PUTNAM.  333 

Pope,  of  Salem.  She  bore  him  ten  children,  and  died 
just  as  the  colonial  troubles  were  beginning.  Soon 
after  his  marriage  he  removed  to  Pomfret,  in  Connecti- 
cut, and  settled  upon  a  tract  of  wild  land  which  he  had 
purchased.  He  toiled  manfully  to  subdue  the  original 
curse  of  brush  and  bramble  which  encumbered  his 
property,  and  the  rough  landscape,  conquered  by  his 
persevering  hand,  soon  blossomed  with  the  fruitful  har- 
vest. He  was  energetic  and  of  good  judgment,  and  in 
a  short  time  he  was  in  a  prosperous  condition. 

You  have  heard  of  his  attacking  the  she-wolf  in  her 
cave,  from  which  daring  conflict  he  returned  victorious, 
and  immediately  and  deservedly  became  the  hero  of  the 
community. 

When  the  New  England  colonies  became  engaged  in 
the  French  war,  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  volunteer  his 
services  in  the  army.  He  was  given  a  captain's  commis- 
sion, with  orders  to  raise  a  company.  He  was  soon  on 
his  way  to  Fort  Edward  with  a  company  of  men  —  the 
flower  of  the  country  —  around  him.  In  this  position 
Putnam  formed  many  a  daring  and  dangerous  exploit, 
several  times  narrowly  escaping  with  his  life.  After  this 
trouble  had  died  out  he  returned  to  Pomfret. 

On  one  occasion,  it  is  told  of  him,  while 'he  was  at- 
tached to  Abercrombie's  army,  he,  with  a  single  com- 
panion, found  himself  in  the  darkness  quite  within  the 
French  lines.  The  sentinels  fired  upon  them,  and  a 
bullet  cut  a  hole  in  Putnam's  canteen,  and  fourteen 
passed  through  the  blanket  he  wore  strapped  to  his  back, 
while  his  companion  escaped  with  only  a  slight  wound. 
It  was  one  morning  in  February,  1758,  a  fire  broke  out 
in  Fort  Edward  and  made  considerable  progress  ere  it 
was  discovered.  The  garrison  endeavored  to  check  the 
flames,  without  success.  Putnam  and  a  detachment  of 


~~.  ISRAEL   PUTNAM. 

his  men  crossed  the  river  on  the  ice  as  soon  as  they  saw 
the  fire,  and  reached  the  fort  just  as  the  flames  were 
nearing  the  magazine.  The  water-gate  was  thrown 
open,  and  the  men  formed  a  line  to  pass  the  buckets  of 
water  from  the  river.  Putnam  mounted  to  the  roof,  and 
as  the  buckets  came  up  to  him  he  dashed  the  water  upon 
the  flames.  This  position  of  imminent  danger  he  held 
until  ordered  down  by  the  commander  of  the  fort.  He 
leaped  to  the  ground  just  as  the  roof  came  crashing  in. 
The  fire  was  now  within  a  few  feet  of  the  magazine,  and 
an  explosion  was  to  be  momentarily  apprehended.  Then 
the  hero  dashed  between  the  flames  and  the  magazine, 
which  was  already  charring  with  the  heat,  and  poured 
pailful  after  pailful  upon  the  smoking  lumber,  with  only 
the  heroic  remark:  "  If  we  must  be  blown  up,  we  will 
all  go  together."  His  noble  example  inspired  like  cour- 
age in  those  around  him,  and  the  fort  was  saved  ;  but  so 
severely  was  Putnam  burned  that  he  was  obliged  to  re- 
main a  month  in  the  hospital. 

At  another  time  he  was  about  crossing  the  Hudson, 
nine  miles  below  Fort  Edward,  and  when  his  bateau  was 
about  to  land  he  found  himself  almost  precipitated  into 
an  Indian  ambuscade.  There  was  no  chance  to  save 
himself  but  to  trust  to  the  mercy  of  the  rapids  which 
were  roaring  over  the  rocks  below.  He  unhesitatingly 
headed  his  boat  in  that  direction,  safely  shot  down  over 
the  seething  flood  and  landed  below,  causing  the 
Indians  to  believe  that  the  Great  Spirit  had  him  under 
especial  protection,  and  they  abandoned  all  thoughts  of 
capturing  him. 

Again  and  again  fearful  perils  environed  him,  but 
he  miraculously  escaped.  After  the  surrender  of 
Montreal  Putnam  returned  home;  but  in  1762,  Great 
Britain  having  declared  war  with  Spain,  he,  as  lieuten- 


ISRAEL  PUTNAM.  335 

ant-colonel,  accompanied  this  expedition.  He  bore 
himself  gallantly  through  this  campaign  and  returned 
home  with  well  earned  laurels. 

Then  came  the  threatened  troubles  between  the 
Colonies  and  England.  British  officers  were  much  sur- 
prised that,  knowing  the  forces  of  England's  trained 
armies  so  well,  he  should  side  with  the  colonists. 

"  We  will  resist,"  said  the  hero, "  and  have  the  honor 
of  ridding  our  country  of  the  yoke  of  tyranny.  Our 
forefathers  would  not  bear  this  yoke,  neither  will  we." 

At  this  time  he  was  residing  at  Brooklyn,  on  the 
eastern  border  of  Connecticut.  On  the  morning  of  the 
2Oth  of  April,  1775,  he  was  plowing  in  the  field  pre- 
paratory to  planting  his  wheat  and  corn.  Near  noon  a 
smoking-hot  steed  dashed  up,  while  a  panting  courier 
informed  him  of  the  previous  conflicts  at  Lexington  and 
Concord.  Not  a  moment's  hesitation  followed.  He 
unyoked  his  cattle  from  the  plow,  and  calling  to  the  lad 
who  had  been  driving  them  to  run  for  his  coat,  Putnam 
clashed  for  his  stable  and  saddled  his  fleetest  horse. 
Catching  his  coat  from  the  boy  he  leaped  upon  his 
steed's  back  and  thundered  away  toward  Cambridge. 
There,  late  at  night,  he  reported  himself  to  General 
Ward.  Fierce  eloquence  and  fiery  counsel  was  followed 
by  rapid  action  in  those  trying  times.  It  would  fill 
many  a  page  to  narrate  his  deeds  of  valor. 

When  the  colonists  were  first  driven  from  Bunker 
Hill  he  was  beside  himself  with  rage.  He  tried  to  rally 
the  men.  Seizing  the  Connecticut  flag  in  one  hand,  he 
brandished  his  sword  with  the  other,  and  hoarsely 
shouted  to  them  to  rally.  "  Make  a  stand !  make  a 
stand  !  One  more  shot  in  God's  name,  give  them  one 
more  ! "  he  pleaded ;  but  the  panic-stricken  men  con- 
tinued their  flight ;  only  he  rallied  a  few,  and  with  them 


336 


ISRAEL  PUTNAM. 


fortified  Prospect  Hill.  Two  days  after  that  battle 
Putnam  was  appointed  one  of  the  four  major-generals 
of  the  continental  army. 

Many  a  disaster  to  the  undisciplined  troops  was  pre- 
vented by  the  invincible  energy  of  this  flinty  hero.  In 
forced  marches,  during  retreats,  his  ever-watchful  eyes 
guarded  and  guided  the  too  often  demoralized  troops. 
For  sound,  far-reaching  judgment,  for  rapidity  of  action 
and  heroic  valor,  Israel  Putnam  was  second  only  to 
George  Washington.  In  active  service  until  he  was 
seized  with  paralysis  in  1779,  he  was  then  obliged  to 
retire  to  private  life,  where  he  enjoyed  peaceful  quiet 
for  eleven  years.  He  died  May  29,  1790. 

Only  the  most  ardent  temperament,  added  to  the 
most  appreciative  mind,  can  properly  value  the  services 
of  soldier-martyrs,  who  cut  themselves  adrift  from  all 
the  privileges  of  home  enjoyments  or  luxuries,  and 
warm  attachments,  to  meet  hardships,  exposures, 
wounds,  and  perhaps  death,  to  secure  our  birthright  — 
Liberty.  Washington  Irving  pays  this  just  and  elo- 
quent tribute  to  the  memory  of  this  noble  benefactor  of 
our  country : 

"  A  yeoman  warrior  —  a  patriot  brave  and  generous  ; 
forgetful  of  self  in  time  of  danger ;  ready  to  serve  his 
fellow  man  in  any  way ;  to  sacrifice  official  rank  to  the 
good  of  the  nation's  cause.  Pattern  for  all  soldiers, 
eminently  a  hero,  his  is  one  of  the  talismanic  names  of 
the  Revolution  that  stirs  the  patriotic  blood  like  a 
thrilling  trumpet-blast.  Gather  up  such  names  as  the 
precious  jewels  of  our  history;  garner  them  as  the 
nation's  treasures,  and  hold  them  immaculate  from  the 
inroads  of  time  and  decay." 


THE   TEMPLE  OF  THE  SUN.  337 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  THE   SUN. 

:AALBEC  (the  Baalath  of  Scripture),  a  city  of 
:  the  Syrian    Province  of  the  Roman  world,  was 
among  the  first  in  dignity,  splendor  and  wealth, 
and  a  city  of  great  size  and  magnificence,  but  on 

the  overthrow  of  the  empire  became,  together  with 

the  surrounding  country,  waste  and  desolate. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  preceding  century 
a  colony  of  Turks  settled  among  the  ruins  of  Baalbec, 
and  a  small  town  arose,  numbering  four  to  five  thou- 
sand inhabitants;  but  its  life  was  short.  It  was  invaded 
by  plundering  Arab  tribes,  and  at  present  but  a  cluster 
of  miserable  hovels  remains,  and  these  are  half  hidden 
by  the  huge  fragments  of  the  majestic  structures  of  old, 
the  shelter  of  predatory  Bedouins,  who  pasture  their 
flocks  in  the  sanctuaries  of  the  temples,  and  make  the 
place  a  horror  to  tourists. 

Baalbec  is  seldom  mentioned  by  ancient  authors. 
Macrobius  speaks  of  it  as  the  "  City  of  the  Sun"  ;  this 
term  corresponds  with  the  vale  of  Baal ;  for  Baal  is  the 
name  of  the  Assyrian  god  of  the  sun.  The  date  of  its 
origin  is  lost  in  remote  antiquity.  Some  ascribe  it  to 
Solomon,  as  it  is  thought  to  answer  to  the  account 
given  of  the  "  House  of  the  forest  of  Lebanon."  It 
is  an  historical  fact  that  it  attained  the  zenith  of  its 
prosperity  under  the  emperors  of  Rome,  and  at  that 
period  most  of  those  edifices  were  probably  erected, 
the  ruins  of  which  are  now  the  admiration  of  travelers. 

The  Temple  of  the  Sun,  one  of  the  wonders  of  the 
world,  was  reached  by  a  majestic  flight  of  marble  steps, 


338 


THE    TEMPLE   OF   THE   SUN. 


which  stood  on  an  elevated  platform,  in  itself  the  most 
gigantic  work  ever  produced  by  human  hands.  This 
huge  terrace,  nearly  two  miles  in  circumference,  is  com- 
posed of  regularly  hewn  blocks  of  stone,  the  smallest 
of  which  is  thirty-four,  the  largest  fifty-four  feet  in 
length,  eighteen  in  height,  and  ten  in  breadth.  These 
stupendous  masses  are  so  accurately  and  firmly  joined 
that,  after  almost  two  thousand  years,  it  is  not  possible 
to  introduce  the  blade  of  a  penknife  between  the  united 
blocks.  They  were  brought  from  a  quarry  about  two 
leagues  distant,  where  stones  similar  to  these  are  still 
'to  be  seen.  Some  are  finished,  and  lie  at  the  edge  of 
the  quarry,  in  readiness  for  conveyance ;  others  repose 
at  the  bottom  of  the  pit,  in  a  rough  state. 

On  this  wonderful  terrace  stood  the  Temple  of  the 
Sun.  Its  entrance  was  from  the  east,  through  a  portico 
of  twelve  columns  of  granite,  which  leads  into  the  first 
compartment  of  the  temple,  a  vestibule  one  hundred 
and  eighty  feet  in  diameter,  which  is  encircled  by  a 
series  of  smaller  halls,  each  in  the  most  beautiful  pro- 
portions, and  decorated  in  the  richest  profusion.  The 
forecourt  of  the  temple  is  of  a  square  form,  five  hun- 
dred and  seventy-four  feet  in  length,  and  three  hundred 
and  sixty-eight  in  breadth  ;  it  is  covered  with  grass  and 
shrubs  ;  here  are  also  broken  shafts  and  huge  fragments 
of  sculpture.  An  extensive  range  of  very  grand  colon- 
nades adjoins  this  portion  of  the  ruins.  It  is  the  Cella 
or  inner  temple.  Nine  of  the  pillars,  all  of  colossal 
dimensions,  are  standing  upright ;  fifty-six  of  these  col- 
umns supported  the  roof  of  the  Cella,  which  was  three 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  one  hundred  and  sixty 
broad,  and  ninety  feet  high. 

Anything  more  imposing  and  grand  than  this  edifice 
previous  to  its  destruction  cannot  be  conceived  by  hu- 


SOUNDS  AND  SILENCE. 


339 


man  imagination.  Coins  frequently  have  been  discov- 
ered in  the  ruins,  and  mostly  bear  the  stamp  of  the 
reigns  of  the  Antonines. 


SOUNDS  AND  SILENCE. 

ERTAIN  sounds  will  make  a  person  sad  or 
unhappy,  no  matter  what  the  present  circum- 
stances may  be;  because  they  are  inseparably 
connected  in  the  mind  by  that  mysterious  some- 
thing we  call  "  association  of  ideas,"  with  a  condi- 
tion of  mind  from  which  we  suffered  when  the  ear 
was  filled  by  that  particular  sound,  and  no  matter 
where  or  when  that  sound  assails  our  ears,  it  recalls 
instantly  the  same  old  feeling. 

Dreadful  as  it  sounds  to  timid,  nervous  people,  / 
love  a  good,  hearty  thunderstorm.  Sharp  lightning, 
that  blinds  the  eyes  and  takes  the  breath,  will  make 
me  shrink ;  but  the  deep  thunder  is  glorious !  I  love 
the  mellow  crashes  that  mutter  and  roll  away  into 
softer  explosions,  or  lose  themselves  in  the  spatter  of 
the  rain  that  tunes  itself  into  a  droning  lullaby. 

I  have  read  somewhere  lately  that  all  sounds  were 
melodious,  if  they  met  the  ear  at  the  proper  angle,  or 
at  a  sufficient  distance;  may  be,  but  I  would  like 
to  know  at  what  angle,  or  distance  either,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  place  a  pair  of  cats  to  make  their  cater- 
wauling delightful ;  or  whoever  thought  the  braying  of 
a  donkey  in  the  least  musical  ? 


SCENE   IN   AN   AFRICAN    FOREST. 


SOUNDS  AND   SILENCE. 


34' 


However,  I  am  truly  sorry  for  the  people  who  are 
deprived  of  the  enjoyment  of  sound;  and  I  think  bar- 
barous nations  must  entertain  the  idea  that  its  utter 
silence  is  the  worst  feature  of  death  ;  hence  their  cus- 
tom of  making  hideous  noises,  and  what  they  call 
music,  to  cheer  the  departing  spirit  on  its  lonely,  silent 
journey. 

We  often  read  in  books  of  travel  of  the  silence  and 
gloom  of  the  Brazilian  and  African  forests.  They  are 
realities,  and  the  impression  deepens  on  a  longer  ac- 
quaintance. The  few  sounds  of  birds  are  of  that 
pensive  or  mysterious  character  which  intensifies  the 
feeling  of  solitude  rather  than  imparts  a  sense  of  life 
and  cheerfulness.  Sometimes,  in  the  midst  of  stillness, 
a  sudden  yell  or  scream  will  startle  one ;  this  comes 
from  some  defenseless  fruit-eating  animal,  which  is 
pounced  upon  by  a  tiger-cat  or  stealthy  boa-constrictor. 
Morning  and  evening  the  howling  monkeys  make  a 
most  fearful  and  harrowing  noise,  under  which  it  is 
difficult  to  keep  up  one's  buoyancy  of  spirits.  The 
feeling  of  inhospitable  wildness  which  the  forest  is 
calculated  to  inspire  is  increased  tenfold  under  the 
fearful  uproar.  Often,  even  in  the  still  hours  of  mid- 
day, a  sudden  crash  will  be  heard  resounding  afar 
through  the  wilderness,  as  some  great  bough  or  entire 
tree  falls  to  the  ground.  There  are,  besides,  many 
sounds  which  it  is  impossible  to  account  for.  The 
writer  found  the  natives  generally  as  much  at  a  loss 
in  this  respect  as  himself. 

Sometimes  a  sound  is  heard  like  the  clang  of  an 
iron  bar  against  a  hard,  hollow  tree,  or  a  piercing  cry 
rends  the  air;  these  are  not  repeated,  and  the  profound 
silence  following  is  often  intense,  for  every  inhabitant 
of  the  great  wild,  being  startled  by  the  strange  and 


342  SOUNDS  AND  SILENCE. 

mysterious  sound,  hushes  its  voice  and  tremblingly 
listens. 

Aquatic  animals  are  mute.  A  world  of  radiates, 
molluscs  and  fishes,  therefore,  would  be  silent.  Insects 
are  about  the  only  invertebrates  capable  of  producing 
sound.  Their  organs  are  usually  external,  while  those 
of  higher  animals  are  internal.  Insects  of  rapid  flight 
generally  make  the  most  noise,  and  on  all  sides  they 
are  heard  humming,  buzzing,  booming — often  their 
vibrating  wings  sounding  closely  to  the  ear ;  and  far 
and  near  these  busy  little  creatures  keep  up  an  inces- 
sant noise ;  but,  strange  to  say,  sometimes  for  a  mo- 
ment every  sound  is  hushed,  and  one  feels  relieved 
when  again  they  commence  ticking  and  singing. 

Rarely  at  other  times  than  in  the  silent  hours  of  the 
night,  when  hunger  causes  him  to  come  forth  from  his 
lair  in  search  of  food,  does  the  lion  roar.  True  it  is 
that  he  is  frequently  met  with  during  the  day,  and 
often,  indeed,  makes  himself  heard  then  ;  it  is,  how- 
ever, seldom  before  darkness  sets  in  that  his  real 
voice  —  betokening  fury  as  well  as  power  —  is  sounded 
forth.  Those  who  have  heard  only  the  roaring  of 
such  lions  as  are  exhibited  in  this  country  cannot  form 
an  idea  of  the  same  animals'  voices  when  in  a  state 
of  native  freedom  ;  and  listened  to  for  the  first  time 
a  feeling  of  terror  is  produced  which  is  quite  indescrib- 
able 

Occasionally  the  roar  is  so  loud  and  tremendous 
that  it  actually  resembles  thunder,  this  being  caused 
by  a  peculiar  habit  which  the  lion  has  of  laying  his 
head  on  the  ground  when  he  roars,  and  so  making 
the  noise  roll,  as  it  were,  like  a  breaker  along  the 
earth ;  while  at  other  times  it  is  not  unfrequently  mis- 
taken for  the  sound  which  accompanies  an  earthquake. 


SOUNDS  AND  SILENCE.  343 

The  instant  the  lion's  terrible  voice  roars  across  the 
plains,  now  and  then  for  a  distance  of  some  miles, 
the  cattle  and  other  animals  which  are  reposing  start 
up  with  alarm.  The  leopard  and  hyena  even  hold 
their  breath  in  awe ;  and  then,  as  it  is  repeated,  they 
listen  with  much  anxiety  to  the  various  echoes  which 
follow,  in  order  that  they  may  make  out,  if  possible, 
the  precise  whereabouts  of  their  enemy.  Fortunately, 
possessing  a  powerful  sense  of  smell,  they  are  gener- 
ally able  to  judge,  even  while  the  lion  is  some  distance 
off,  whether  he  is  approaching  or  not ;  and  if  they  find 
out  that  he  is  making  his  way  toward  them,  they  at 
first  become  fearful  and  tremulous,  and  then,  as  a  rule, 
unless  secured  in  an  inclosure  from  which  they  cannot 
escape,  they  speedily  fly  in  all  directions  —  not  unfre- 
quently  into  the  very  danger  which  they  intended  to 
avoid.  Even  the  most  light-footed  antelope  makes  a 
pattering  sound  on  the  dry  sand,  especially  when  rush- 
ing away  in  a  fright.  The  lion  hears  all  the  animals, 
and  even  hears  where  they  stop,  which  he  would  not 
be  able  to  do  if  he  had  not  first  frightened  them  out 
of  their  hiding-places. 

Then,  when  he  has  made  quite  sure,  he  creeps 
stealthily  along  from  bush  to  bush,  and  thicket  to 
thicket,  until  he  is  upon  "his  prey;  then  he  utters  his 
fearful  roar  again,  and  makes  his  still  more  terrible 
spring.  No  fear  that  they  will  hear  him  until  he 
wishes  to  be  heard. 

His  paw  is  provided  with  such  well-stuffed  cushions 
that  he  makes  no  sound  as  he  creeps  along.  Another 
use  of  this  soft  cushion  is  that,  if  the  lion  should  miss 
his  spring,  and  come  down  on  the  ground  instead,  the 
fall  would  not  injure  his  spine  as  it  would  otherwise 
do ;  for  the  lion  always  seizes  his  prey  by  a  spring,  and 


344 


SOUNDS   AND   SILENCE. 


he  can  spring  a  distance  of  from  fifteen  to  twenty  feet. 
When  in  anger  or  eager  after  his  prey,  the  mane  of  the 
lion  is  raised  and  standing  out  from  the  head,  giving 
him  a  very  terrible  and  majestic  look.  Gordon  dim- 
ming says  of  him  :  "  There  is  something  so  noble  and 
imposing  in  the  presence  of  the  lion,  when  seen  walk- 
ing with  dignified  self-possession,  free  and  undaunted, 
on  his  native  soil,  that  no  description  can  convey  an 
idea  of  his  striking  appearance.  The  lion  is  exquisitely 
formed  by  nature  for  the  predatory  habits  which  he  is 
destined  to  pursue.  Combining,  in  comparatively  small 
compass,  the  qualities  of  power  and  agility,  he  is  ena- 
bled, by  means  of  the  powerful  machinery  with  which 
nature  has  gifted  him,  easily  to  overcome  and  destroy 
almost  every  beast  of  the  forest,  however  superior  to 
him  in  weight  and  in  stature." 

It  is  a  somewhat  remarkable  circumstance  that  the 
lion's  roar  very  much  resembles  the  loud  cry  of  the 
ostrich,  a  bird  which,  like  the  lion,  is  found  in  great 
numbers  in  Africa.  So  nearly  alike  are  these  sounds 
that  even  the  Hottentots  and  other  natives  are  fre- 
quently deceived  by  them  ;  and  it  is  not  until  the  roar- 
ing has  been  listened  to  most  attentively  for  some  time 
that  it  is  possible  to  distinguish  the  difference  between 
the  one  noise  and  the  other.  Livingstone  said  he  could 
distinguish  the  voices  of  the  ostrich  and  lion  only  by 
knowing  that  the  former  roared  by  day  and  the  latter 
by  night. 

The  lion's  most  frequent  prey  are  the  various  kinds 
of  antelopes,  zebras,  gnus,  and  wild  cattle ;  the  horse 
is  believed  to  be  specially  relished  by  the  "king  of 
beasts." 

The  elephant,  the  rhinoceros,  the  tiger,  and  the 
hippopotamus  are  the  only  animals  which  ever  resist 


SOUNDS   AND  SILENCE. 


345 


him  singly,  but  the  buffalo  sometimes  manages  to  shake 
it  off  and  trample  it  under  foot  before  it  can  make  its 
escape.  The  giraffe,  too,  requires  wary  watching  and 
waiting  for  a  good  opportunity,  as  it  feeds  among  the 
larger  trees,  and  where  the  brushwood  is  not  thick. 
The  lion  likes  to  seize  the  giraffe  when  it  is  drinking, 
then,  long  as  is  the  giraffe's  neck,  it  has  to  put  its  fore 
feet  so  wide  apart  to  bring  its  head  near  the  water  that 
it  cannot  strike  out  with  its  hind  feet.  If  it  is  not 
drinking,  it  receives  the  lion  with  a  good  kick,  and 
sometimes  breaks  its  skull.  If  the  lion,  on  the  con- 
trary, succeeds  in  his  spring,  the  frightened  giraffe  sets 
off  running,  in  hopes  of  escaping  in  that  way.  But  the 
lion  holds  fast,  and  has  an  easy  time  of  it,  carried  on 
the  giraffe's  back ;  while  he  rends  and  tears  the  poor 
creature,  which  at  last  falls  down  to  the  ground,  quite 
worn  out,  and  the  lion  eats  it  at  his  leisure. 

During  the  middle  period  of  the  day  the  tropical 
forests  are  filled  with  animals,  courting  the  grateful 
shades,  silent  and  resting ;  and  it  is  only  in  some  deep 
glade,  "  afraid  to  glitter  in  the  noontide  beams,"  that 
the  gambols  of  a  monkey  disturb  the  universal  solitude. 
So  soon,  however,  as  the  sun  declines,  and  the  evening 
breezes  reduce  the  heat,  then  the  inhabitants  of  these 
nurseries  of  life  resume  their  wonted  gambols,  and 
none  among  them  are  more  conspicuous  than  the 
monkey  tribe. 

The  interval  of  activity  for  them  is  brief,  however ; 
but  a  few  morning  and  evening  hours  of  a  milder  heat 
are  sufficient  to  satisfy  all  their  wants ;  the  blaze  of  a 
vertical  sun,  or  a  short  twilight,  again  obliges  them  to 
seek  a  shelter  from  its  beams,  or  a  place  of  rest  and 
security  from  the  prowlers  whose  turn  it  is  now  to  seek 
for  food. 


-.g  SOUNDS  AND  SILENCE. 

There  are.  however,  some  tribes  which  are  nocturnal 
in  their  habits,  remaining  entirely  inactive  during  the 
day,  coming  forth  at  night,  making  the  forests  resound 
with  their  yells  and  howlings.  Of  the  red  howler  a 
traveler  says  :  "  Nothing  can  be  more  dreadful  than  its 
cries.  While  lying  in  your  hammock  in  these  gloomy 
and  immeasurable  wilds,  you  hear  him  howling  at  inter- 
vals, from  eleven  o'clock  at  night  till  day-break.  You 
would  suppose  that  half  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forest 
were  collected  for  the  work  of  carnage.  Now  it  is  the 
tremendous  roar  of  the  jaguar,  as  he  springs  on  his 
prey ;  now  it  changes  to  his  terrible,  deep-toned  growl- 
ings,  as  he  is  pressed  on  all  sides  by  superior  force  ; 
and  now  you  hear  his  harsh,  dying  moan  beneath  a 
mortal  wound." 

The  parrots  usually  spend  an  hour  or  more  in  adjust- 
ing themselves  in  their  places  at  night,  during  which 
time  they  keep  up  a  loud  and  incessant  screaming.  At 
length  they  are  quietly  seated,  when  they  commence 
what  very  closely  resembles  a  musical  concert ;  this  they 
continue  about  an  hour  longer.  At  regular  intervals 
during  the  night  they  sing  out  as  if  they  were  keeping 
watch. 

Few  animals  seek  their  prey  in  the  daytime  ;  they 
are  then  deterred  by  their  fears  of  man  in  the  inhabited 
countries,  and  by  the  excessive  heat  of  the  sun  in  those 
extensive  forests  that  lie  toward  the  south,  and  in  which 
they  reign  undisputed  tyrants.  As  soon,  therefore,  as 
the  morning  appears,  the  carnivorous  animals  retire  to 
their  dens,  and  the  elephant,  the  horse,  the  deer,  and  all 
the  hare  kinds,  those  inoffensive  tenants  of  the  plain, 
make  their  appearance. 

But  again  at  nightfall  the  state  of  hostility  begins ; 
the  whole  forest  echoes  to  a  variety  of  different  howl- 


348 


SOUNDS   AND   SfLENCE. 


ings.  Nothing  can  be  more  terrible  than  an  African 
landscape  at  the  close  of  evening ;  the  deep-toned 
roarings  of  the  lion  ;  the  shriller  yellings  of  the  tiger ; 
the  jackal,  pursuing  by  the  scent,  and  barking  like  a  dog  ; 
the  hyena,  with  a  note  peculiarly  solitary  and  dreadful ; 
but,  above  all,  the  hissing  of  the  various  kinds  of  ser- 
pents that  begin  their  call,  and,  as  I  am  assured,  make 
a  much  louder  symphony  than  birds  in  our  groves  in  a 
morning.  Snakes  and  lizards  have  no  vocal  chords, 
and  can  only  hiss.  Frogs  croak,  a/nd  crocodiles  roar  by 
the  vibrations  of  the  glottis. 

The  huge  tortoise  of  the  Galapagos  islands  utters  a 
hoarse,  bellowing  noise.  The  vocal  apparatus  in  birds 
is  situated  at  the  lower  end  of  the  trachea,  where  it 
divides  into  the  two  bronchi.  It  consists  mainly  of  a 
long  drum  with  a  cross-bone,  having  a  vertical  mem- 
brane attached  to  its  upper  edge.  Five  pairs  of  mus- 
cles (in  the  songstress)  adjust  the  length  of  the  wind- 
pipe to  the  pitch  of  the  glottis.  The  various  notes  are 
produced  by  differences  in  the  blast  of  air,  as  well  as  by 
changes  in  the  tension  of  their  lining  membranes,  while 
the  range  of  the  notes  is  commonly  within  an  octave. 
Birds  of  the  same  family  have  a  similar  voice.  All  the 
parrots  have  a  harsh  utterance  ;  geese  and  ducks  quack  ; 
crows,  magpies  and  jays  caw  ;  while  the  warblers  differ 
in  the  quality  rather  than  the  kind  of  note. 

Some  species  possess  great  compass  of  voice.  The 
bell-bird  can  be  heard  nearly  three  miles. 

The  vocal  organ  in  mammals,  unlike  that  in  birds,  is 
in  the  upper  part  of  the  larynx.  It  consists  of  four  car- 
tilages, of  which  the  largest  (the  thyroid)  produces  the 
prominence  in  the  human  throat  known  as  Adam's  apple, 
and  two  elastic  bands,  called  vocal  chords,  just  below 
the  glottis,  or  upper  opening  of  the  windpipe.  The 


SOUNDS  AND  SILENCE.  -^ 

various  tones  are  determined  by  the  tension  of  these 
chords,  which  are  effected  by  the  raising  or  lowering  of 
the  thyroid  prominence.  The  will  cannot  influence  the 
contraction  of  the  vocalizing  muscles,  except  in  the  very 
act  of  vocalization. 

The  vocal  sounds  produced  by  mammals  maybe  dis- 
tinguished in  the  ordinary  voice  and  cry,  and  the  song. 
The  second  is  the  sound  made  by  the  brutes.  The  whale, 
porpoise,  armadillo,  ant-eater,  porcupine  and  giraffe  are 
generally  silent.  The  bat's  voice  is  probably  the  shrill- 
est sound  audible  to  human  ears. 

There  is  little  modulation  in  brute  utterance.  The 
opossum  purrs  ;  the  sloth  and  kangaroo  moan  ;  the  hog 
grunts  or  squalls  ;  the  tapir  whistles  ;  the  stag  bellows ; 
and  the  elephant  gives  a  hoarse  noise  from  its  trunk  and 
a  deep  groan  from  its  throat.  All  sheep  have  a  guttural 
voice.  All  cows  low,  from  the  bison  to  the  musk-ox ; 
all  the  horses  and  donkeys  neigh  ;  all  the  cats  mew,  from 
the  domestic  animal  to  the  lion  ;  all  the  bears  growl ;  all 
the  canine  family  (fox,  wolf  and  dog)  bark,  howl  and 
whine.  The  howling  monkeys  and  gorillas  have  a  large 
sac  or  cavity  in  the  throat  for  resonance,  enabling  them 
to  utter  a  powerful  sound ;  and  one  of  the  gibbons  has 
the  remarkable  power  of  emitting  a  complete  octave  of 
musical  notes. 

The  human  voice,  taking  the  male  and  female  to- 
gether, has  a  range  of  nearly  four  octaves.  Man's  power 
of  speech,  or  the  utterance  of  articulate  sounds,  is  due 
to  his  intellectual  development,  rather  than  to  any  struct- 
ural difference  between  him  and  the  apes.  Song  is  pro- 
duced by  the  glottis  —  speech  by  the  mouth. 


350  THE   BOTTOMLESS  PIT. 


THE  BOTTOMLESS  PIT. 

EAR  the  shores  of  the  bay  of  San  Francisco,  and 
not  far  from  the  town  of  Benicia,  is  a  spot  called 
the  "  bottomless  pit."  How  justly  it  has  been  so 
called  will  appear  by  the  following  account :  Some 
time  ago  it  was  determined  to  build  a  railroad  to 
skirt  the  eastern  shores  of  the  bay,  and  at  once  work 
was  commenced.  All  went  well  until  this  particular 
spot  was  reached.  Here  it  was  found  that  the  ground 
was  soft  and  needed  filling  in.  This  was  done,  appar- 
ently, satisfactorily,  and  the  work  beyond  it  was  pro- 
ceeded with.  One  morrfing,  however,  it  was  reported 
that  all  the  filling  in  was  gone,  and  so  mysteriously  as 
not  to  leave  any  trace  behind  of  its  whereabouts.  There 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  fill  it  in  again,  and  accord- 
ingly it  was  done.  Again  did  morning  dawn  upon  the 
same  soft  quagmire  that  had  originally  disputed  the 
roadway.  Gone  were  the  tons  of  stone  and  gravel  so 
laboriously  heaped  upon  the  strange  spot.  Again  and 
again  did  the  same  thing  happen,  until  at  last  it  seemed 
as  if  human  perseverance,  together  with  fabulous 
amounts  of  gravel,  had  accomplished  the  object  of 
filling  up  the  spot,  now  come  to  be  known  as  the  bot- 
tomless pit.  The  construction  train  had  already  passed 
over  the  "  pit "  many  times  in  safety,  and  the  road 
employes  were  almost  lulled  into  a  sense  of  complete 
security,  when  one  Saturday,  upon  approaching  the 
place,  engineer  Sankey  noticed  that  the  earth  had  a 
depressed  appearance.  He  knew  in  a  moment  what 
that  meant ;  but  it  was  too  late  to  stop  the  train.  There 
was  but  one  chance,  and  with  a  providential  presence 


ANTIQUITT  OF   THE  BARREL.  35  r 

of  mind  he  saw  it  —  he  must  cross  the  spot  with  all  the 
speed  his  engine  was  capable  of.  At  once  he  grasped 
the  lever  and  opened  wide  the  valve.  Fortunately  there 
was  a  powerful  head  of  steam  on,  and  with  a  snort  and 
shudder  the  good  engine  gathered  all  its  strength,  as  if 
realizing  the  dreadful  necessity,  and  rushed  with  terrific 
speed  over  the  treacherous  morass,  which  was  all  the 
while  sinking  under  the  flying  train.  Hardly  had  the 
last  car  reached  the  firm  earth  beyond  when,  as  if  swal- 
lowed into  the  rapacious  maw  of  some  vast  monster, 
silently  and  unresisting,  three  hundred  feet  of  track 
sank  out  of  sight.  Having  fairly  skimmed  over  the 
yawning  jaws  of  death,  it  is  no  wonder  if  the  rescued 
men  offered  up  heartfelt  thanks  for  their  deliverance. 
It  is  hardly  probable  that  any  more  attempts  will  be 
made  to  fill  the  bottomless  pit ;  for  even  if  eventually 
successfully  done,  there  would  be  few  indeed  who  would 
voluntarily  care  to  cross  it. 


ANTIQUITY   OF   THE    BARREL. 

f 

JEW  inventions  have  had  a  wider  or  more  varied 
p  usefulness  than  the  barrel ;  few  give  such  prom- 
fe  ise  of  perpetuity.  Unique  in  principle,  simple 
yet  singularly  perfect  in  plan  and  structure,  the 
barrel  is  little  less  than  a  stroke  of  genius.  Who 
set  up  the  first  one?  Who  first  conceived  the 
happy  thought  of  making  a  vessel  tight  and  strong 

out   of  strips    of  wood    bound    together  with    hoops? 

And  when  did  he  live? 


352  ANTIQUITY   OF   THE   BARREL. 

No  history  of  inventions,  none  of  the  encyclopedias 
in  our  great  libraries,  no  historian  of  human  progress, 
so  far  as  we  know,  gives  any  information  on  the  sub- 
ject, unless  we  except  the  Roman  author  Pliny,  who 
mistakenly  attributes  the  invention  to  the  Gauls,  who 
inhabited  the  banks  of  the  Po.  We  say  mistakenly, 
since  there  is  the  best  of  good  reasons  for  believing 
that  the  barrel  was  in  use  long  before  the  Gauls  took 
possession  of  their  Italian  home,  perhaps  long  before 
the  Gauls  existed  as  a  people. 

The  monuments  of  Egypt  furnish  proof  of  the  early 
use  of  hooped  vessels,  though  no  date  is  given  of  their 
invention.  In  one  of  the  inscriptions  copied  by  Wil- 
kinson may  be  seen  two  slaves  emptying  grain  from 
a  wooden  vessel  made  with  hoops,  while  a  scribe  keeps 
tally,  and  a  sweeper  stands  by  with  a  broom  to  sweep 
up  the  scattered  kernels.  Close  by  an  unfortunate  is 
undergoing  punishment  by  bastinado,  for  short  meas- 
ure perhaps,  or,  as  Mr.  Wilkinson  suggests,  for  petty 
theft.  The  measure  is  barrel-shaped,  and  precisely 
like  the  kayl  of  modern  Egypt.  It  would  hold,  appar- 
ently, about  a  peck.  Unfortunately  the  age  of  this 
inscription  is  not  indicated.  Measures  of  the  sort 
would  seem  to  have  been  in  common  use  very  early 
in  Egypt,  though  not  for  the  storing  of  liquids,  for 
which  purpose  skins  and  earthen  vessels  were  em- 
ployed. 

At  first  thought,  Egypt  would  be  the  last  place  to 
look  for  the  invention  of  hooped  vessels,  its  arid 
climate  making  it  specially  unsuited  for  their  employ- 
ment. Possibly,  however,  that  may  have  been  the 
compelling  cause  of  their  invention. 

Throughout  the  East  the  bamboo  is  largely  used 
for  making  hollow  vessels,  a  section  of  the  stem 


ITASCA   LAKE.  353 

through  a  node  securing  a  solid  bottom,  and  one  be- 
tween the  nodes  an  open  mouth  for  a  natural  tub  or 
bucket.  In  well  wooded  regions,  nothing  would  be 
more  natural  than  the  employment  of  hollow  tree 
trunks  for  the  same  purpose,  or  sections  of  tree  stems, 
hollowed  out  by  fire  or  otherwise.  In  drying,  such 
vessels  would  split  and  spoil,  and  it  would  require 
no  great  genius  to  repair  them  by  means  of  wythes  or 
wooden  bands,  the  primitive  form  of  the  hoop. 

If  the  users  of  such  natural  barrels  should  migrate 
to  a  region  where  timber  was  scarcer,  economy  of 
lumber  would  be  likely  to  suggest  the  building  of  bar- 
rels from  pieces  artificially  split,  in  short,  the  use  of 
staves,  by  means  of  which  the  primitive  cooper  would 
be  enabled  to  make  several  barrels  out  of  a  block  that 
would  suffice  but  for  a  single  dug-out.  » 

But  this  is  speculation  merely.  It  is  enough  to 
know  for  a  certainty  that  the  cooper's  art,  like  the 
potter's,  is  of  extreme  antiquity. 


ITASCA    LAKE. 

fMONG  the  numerous  small  lakes  in  northern 
Minnesota  that  form  the  source  of  the  Missis- 
sippi river,  no  one,  in  point  of  loveliness,  can 
compare  with  Itasca.  This  beautiful  body  of 
water  is  situated  in  latitude  47°  10'  north,  and 
95°  54'  west,  near  the  summit  of  the  water-shed 
between  the  Red  River  of  the  North  and  the  streams 
flowing  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  The  lake,  judging 

23 


ITASCA   LAKE. 


SWIMMING  IN   THE  SALT  LAKE.  355 

from  traveling  its  entire  length,  is  some  twelve  or 
fifteen  miles  in  extent,  irregular  in  width,  nestled 
among  grandly  moulded  hills,  and  bordered  by  a 
heavy  growth  of  pine  timber.  The  water  of  Itasca 
Lake  is  as  clear  as  crystal,  and  usually  as  placid  as 
the  surface  of  a  mirror,  abounding  in  most  excellent 
fish,  and  in  the  spring  bedecked  with  innumerable 
aquatic  birds,  furnishing  any  amount  of  sport  for  the 
lovers  of  the  rod  and  gun. 


SWIMMING  IN  THE  SALT  LAKE. 

HERE  are  no  fish  in  the  great  Salt  Lake.     The 
only  living  thing  beneath   its  waters  is  a  worm 

r-  ~  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch  long.  This  worm 
^  shows  up  beautifully  beneath  the  lens  of  a  micro- 
scope. When  a  storm  arises  the  worms  are  driven 
ashore  by  thousands,  and  devoured  by  the  black  gulls. 
We  found  a  pure  stream  pouring  into  the  lake.  It 
was  filled  with  little  chubs  and  shiners.  The  fish  be- 
came frightened,  and  were  driven  down  the  brook  into 
the  briny  lake.  The  instant  they  touched  its  waters 
they  came  to  the  surface  belly  upward,  and  died  with- 
out a  gasp.  The  water  is  remarkably  buoyant.  Eggs 
and  potatoes  float  upon  it  like  corks.  Mr.  Rood  and 
myself  stripped  and  went  in  swimming.  I  dived  into 
the  lake  from  a  long  pier,  which  had  been  built  for  the 
use  of  a  small  steamboat  that  formerly  plied  upon  the 
waters.  The  sensation  was  novel.  The  water  was  so 


356 


SWIMMING  IN   THE  SALT  LAKE. 


salty  that  my  eyes  and  ears  began  to  smart,  but  so 
buoyant  that  I  found  no  difficulty  in  floating  even 
when  the.  air  was  exhausted  in  my  lungs.  As  I  struck 
out  for  the  beach  I  felt  as  light  as  a  feather.  In  spite 
of  all  that  I  could  do  my  heels  would  fly  out  of  the 
water.  I  found  it  impossible  to  stand  upon  the  bottom  ; 
the  lightness  of  the  water  and  surging  of  the  waves 
forced  my  feet  from  under  me.  A  person  who  could 
not  swim  might  be  easily  drowned  in  five  feet  of 
water.  His  head  would  go  down  like-  a  lump  of  lead, 
while  his  feet  would  fly  up  like  a  pair  of  ducks.  The 
water  is  as  clear  as  the  water  of  Seneca  lake ;  so  clear 
that  the  bottom  can  be  seen  at  the  depth  of  twenty 
feet.  When  we  reached  the  shore  and  crawled  out  on 
the  sand,  in  the  light  of  the  sun,  our  bodies  were  quickly 
coated  with  salt.  We  were  compelled  to  go  to  the  little 
stream  from  which  we  had  driven  the  chubs  and  shiners, 
and  wash  off  in  fresh  water  before  we  put  on  our 
clothes.  Our  hair  was  filled  with  grains  of  salt  that 
could  not  be  washed  out.  The  Mormons  occasionally 
visit  the  lake  in  droves  for  the  purpose  of  bathing. 
Many  of  them  say  that  their  health  is  improved  by 
leaving  the  salt  upon  their  body,  and  dressing  without 
wiping  themselves  with  napkins. 


CORAL  AND  PEARL  FISHING.  357 


CORAL   AND    PEARL    FISHING. 

HE  manner  in  which  the  Mediterranean  fisher- 
ies are  conducted  is  to  man  small  boats  —  coral- 
ines  they  are  called  —  with  crews  of  eight  men 
each.  These  men  are  always  excellent  divers. 
They  take  with  them  a  great  cross,  whose  arms  are 
of  equal  length,  and  very  strong.  To  each  arm  is  at- 
tached a  net,  shaped  like  a  sack.  A  stout  rope  is  fast- 
ened to  the  center  of  the  cross,  by  which  it  is  lowered 
to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  with  sufficient  weight  to  keep 
it  steady.  The  diver  next  descends.  The  cross  he 
moves  about  so  that  the  arms  scrape  the  coral  from  the 
rocks,  and  it  becomes  entangled  in  the  nets.  About 
thirty  seconds  is  the  average  time  in  which  a  diver  can 
do  this  work.  At  a  given  signal  he  is  drawn  to  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  with  his  cross  and  coral,  by  the  men  in 
the  boat. 

The  fishery  that  furnishes  us  with  pearls  and  the 
mother-of-pearl  is  the  most  perilous  of  all  the  submarine 
pursuits.  These  two  substances  are  the  same  in  com- 
position. They  are  formed  mainly  of  carbonate  and 
phosphate  of  lime.  The  great  difference  in  valise  be- 
tween the  two  is  because  the  so-called  mother-of-pearl 
is  found  in  several  species  of  shell-fish,  and  is,  therefore, 
abundant :  but  pearls  are  comparatively  rare  and  acci- 
dental. Even  in  the  species  in  which  they  are  most 
frequently  found,  twenty  or  thirty  shells  are  often  ex- 
amined before  one  can  be  found  of  a  regular  outline 
and  of  a  certain  size. 

The  pearl  oyster  which  the  fishermen  call  pintadina, 
or  "  mother  of  the  pearls,"  resembles  the  common  oys- 


358 


CORAL   AND  PEARL   FISHING. 


ter,  but  is  much  larger.  It  is  principally  caught  in  the 
Strait  of  Manaar,  between  the  island  of  Ceylon  and 
the  extremity  of  the  Deccan.  It  is  also  found  on  the 
coast  of  Japan,  the  Persian  Gulf,  the  Red  Sea,  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico  and  the  coast  of  South  America.  The  fish- 
eries in  the  Strait  of  Manaar  belong  to  the  English. 
These  oyster-beds  comprehend  several  banks,  one  of 
which  is  said  to  be  twenty  miles  in  length.  Fishing 
commences  in  the  month  of  February  and  ends  in  May. 
Each  boat  has  a  crew  of  twenty  men, — half  divers,  half 
sailors,  besides  a  master  and  a  pilot. 

Each  diver  grasps,  with  the  toes  of  his  right  foot,  a 
rope,  to  the  end  of  which  a  stone  is  attached.  The  stone 
helps  his  descent,  and  enables  him  to  keep  at  the  bottom 
of  the  water.  He  never  dives  head  foremost,  but  goes 
down  either  in  a  standing  or  crouching  position.  With 
his  left  foot  he  holds  his  net.  In  his  right  hand  is  the 
stone-weighted  cord.  His  ears  are  stopped  with  cotton, 
and  with  his  left  hand  he  pinches  his  nostrils.  When  he 
arrives  at  the  bottom  he  hurriedly  picks  off  all  the  oys- 
ters within  his  reach,  places  them  in  his  net,  which  he 
hangs  about  his  neck,  and  when  he  can  remain  no  longer, 
at  a  given  signal  he  is  drawn  up  by  his  companions  in 
the  boat. 

A  diver  never  can  work  at  greater  depth  than  eight 
or  nine  fathoms.  Neither  can  he  remain  under  water  at 
great  depth  more  than  half  a  minute.  There  is  no  truth 
in  the  statement  that  these  men  sometimes  spend  a  min- 
ute or  more  under  this  mass  of  water.  The  pressure  is 
twofold  that  of  the  atmosphere,  and  no  man  is  capable 
of  so  extraordinary  a  feat.  A  robust  diver  will  some- 
times accomplish  fifteen  or  twenty  descents  in  one  morn- 
ing, but  under  adverse  circumstances  will  not  dive  more 
than  four  or  five  times. 


GEAfS   AND   PRECIOUS  STONES. 


359 


Diving  soon  affects  the  health  of  the  men.  A  diver 
rarely  grows  old.  Many  of  them  contract  a  frightful 
disease,  which  unfits  them  for  work;  their  sight  grows 
weak  ;  then  their  eyes  become  ulcerated,  and  all  their 
body  covered  with  sores  ;  others  are  stricken  with  apo- 
plexy or  die  of  suffocation  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea ; 
some  fall  victims  to  the  sharks,  that  are  the  terror  of 
pearl-fishers.  The  presence  of  one  of  these  voracious 
man-eaters  on  the  fishing-ground  will  scatter  an  entire 
fleet  of  boats  and  drive  them  into  port 


GEMS   AND    PRECIOUS   STONES. 

HE  diamond  is  the  hardest  known  substance, 
and  one  of  the  most  unalterable  gems.  It  is 
not  affected  by  chemicals,  is  infusible,  only  to 
be  consumed  by  exposure  to  a  long-continued  or 
/ery  high  temperature ;  and  these  qualities,  com- 
bined with  its  rare  brilliancy,  make  it  the  most  valuable 
of  precious  stones.  It  is  pure  carbon ;  chemically 
almost  the  same  as  graphite,  or  plumbago  and  char- 
coal ;  but  very  different  from  them  in  its  transparency 
and  luster.  It  is  generally  found  in  octahedral  crystals, 
having  highly  polished  faces ;  and  although  possessing 
some  beauty  in  its  natural  state,  owing  to  the  high 
luster  of  the  faces,  yet  it  has  not  a  tithe  of  the  splendor 
exhibited  by  a  well-cut  brilliant.  The  ancients  did  not 
know  how  to  cut  the  extremely  hard  diamond,  and 
were  content  to  wear  it  in  its  natural  state,  but  even 
thus  they  prized  it  highly. 


GEMS   AND   PRECIOUS  STONES. 

In  1456  Louis  Berqueu,  a  Belgian,  brought  the  art 
of  diamond-cutting  to  a  high  state  of  perfection,  and 
it  is  now  carried  on  chiefly  in  Amsterdam  by  the  Jews. 
Nothing  but  diamond  will  cut  diamond,  and  therefore 
the  stones  are  first  roughly  shaped  by  cleaving  off 
slices  of  the  gems  and  rubbing  two  stones  together. 
Afterward  they  are  brought  to  the  exact  shape  re- 
quired and  finely  polished  by  grinding  against  a  very 
swiftly  revolving  disc  of  soft  steel,  smeared  with  oil 
and  diamond  dust.  On  this  operation  of  cutting  de- 
pends "the  brilliancy  and  consequent  value  of  the  gem  ; 
and  as  diamonds  are  sold  by  weight,  there  is  a  great 
tendency  to  so  cut  the  stone  that  it  may  weigh  as 
much  as  possible.  This,  however,  is  a  great  error,  as 
a  stone  must  be  cut  in  a  certain  way  in  order  to  de- 
velop the  most  perfect  luster,  and  any  additional 
weight  inevitably  injures  the  effect  of  the  cutting. 

The  most  common  form  of  cut  diamonds  is  the 
well  known  brilliant,  familiar  to  all.  Another  less  com- 
mon form,  but  producing  a  fine  effect,  is  the  rose 
diamond  —  a  flat  bottom,  surmounted  by  a  faceted 
pyramid,  terminating  in  a  point. 

According  to  their  transparency  and  luster,  dia- 
monds are  classified  into  stones  of  the  first  water, 
second  water,  and  refuse  stones.  To  be  of  the  first  water 
a  diamond  must  be  absolutely  colorless,  very  lustrous, 
and  perfectly  free  from  flaws.  An  undecided  tint  of 
any  color  injures  its  value ;  and  although  deep  red, 
green  or  blue  hues  may  give  the  stones  an  exceptional 
value  as  fancy  specimens,  yet  in  the  ordinary  market 
they  would  be  much  less  esteemed.  A  yellow  tint 
always  depreciates  the  value ;  and  on  this  account 
many  of  the  stones  so  recently  found  in  South  Africa 
bring  very  low  prices.  These  African  stones,  more- 


GEMS  AND  PRECIOUS  STONES. 


361 


over,  lack  the  perfect  luster  of  Brazilian  diamonds, 
and  have  in  consequence  commanded  far  lower  prices. 
A  well  cut  diamond  of  the  first  water  is  at  present 
worth,  in  New  York,  about  $50  gold  if  it  weighs  half 
a  carat  (the  carat  being  four  grains  troy)  ;  if  weighing 
one  carat,  $175;  if  two  carats,  $550.  Above  this 
weight  the  values  depend  on  very  delicate  shades  of 
difference.  One  stone  of  three  carats  may  bring  $800, 
another  might  be  worth  $1,000.  Above  three  carats 
the  price  is  only  settled  by  agreement.  A  diamond 
of  five  carats  is  a  very  large  stone,  and  above  one 
hundred  carats  few  are  known. 

As  examples  of  some  of  the  most  celebrated  dia- 
monds may  be  cited  the  Koh-i-noor,  one  of  the  English 
crown  jewels,  weighing,  uncut,  793  carats ;  and,  after 
twice  cutting,  106  -fa  carats.  It  is,  perhaps,  the  finest 
diamond  in  the  world.  The  Rajah  of  Mattam  has  one 
of  367  carats.  The  Great  Mogul  diamond  weighs  now 
2  79  A  carats;  uncut  900.  The  Star  of  the  South,  a 
Brazilian  stone,  and  one  of  the  most  beautiful  brilliants, 
weighs  125*4  carats- 
Diamonds  are  found  in  alluvial  deposits,  from  which 
they  are  separated  by  washing.  In  Brazil  the  work  is 
done  by  slaves,  and  the  fortunate  finder  of  a  stone  of 
over  seventeen  carats  receives  his  freedom  and  a  suit 
of  clothes.  Scarcely  one  in  ten  thousand  is  found  to 
weigh  so  much,  and  the  majority  of  them  weigh  but  a 
very  small  fraction  of  a  carat. 

The  most  celebrated  localities  in  ancient  times  were 
Golconda  and  Borneo;  but  in  1727  the  diggings  in 
Brazil  were  opened,  and  yielded  so  abundantly  as  to 
greatly  depreciate  the  value  of  diamonds,  and  the 
dealers  tried  to  make  people  believe  that  they  were 
not  true  diamonds.  Lately  diamonds  have  been  found 


362  GEMS   AND  PRECIOUS   STONES. 

in  Australia  and  South  Africa,  and  a  few  in  North  Car- 
olina, Virginia,  and  California;  but  Brazil  furnishes 
the  most  abundant  supplies  and  the  best  gems. 

Numerous  attempts  have  been  made  to  produce 
artificial  diamonds,  but  they  have  all  been  in  vain. 
It  is  even  doubtful  whether  microscopically  small  crys- 
tals have  been  formed.  Diamonds  are,  however,  very 
well  imitated  by  pastes,  which  possess  all  the  beauty 
and  fire  of  the  real  stones,  and  flash  in  our  street  cars, 
theaters,  and  shop  windows,  quite  secure  from  detection 
except  by  a  shrewd  judge  of  human  nature  as  well  as 
of  stones. 

Next  in  hardness  to  the  diamond  come  the  ruby  and 
sapphire,  identical  in  composition,  being  both  nearly 
pure  alumina,  which  also  constitute  the  mineral  corun- 
dum, so  useful  as  a  polishing  and  grinding  agent. 
Emery,  too,  is  only  an  impure  form  of  alumina. 

The  ruby  of  the  first  water  is  a  deep  red,  lustrous 
stone,  admired  everywhere,  and  especially  in  the  East. 
It  is  found  chiefly  in  the  kingdom  of  Ava,  whose  sover- 
eign retains  the  finest  rubies  as  his  private  property. 
Cut  in  a  flat  table,  bordered  with  small  facets,  and  sur- 
rounded by  brilliants,  it  is  an  exceedingly  handsome 
stone,  and  a  very  precious  one,  nearly  approaching  the 
diamond  in  value.  A  ruby  of  one  carat  is  worth  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in  New  York,  and  a  ruby 
of  over  three  carats  is  actually  more  valuable  than  a 
diamond  of  equal  weight,  because  much  rarer.  Rubies 
are  very  well  imitated  by  pastes,  and  not  unfrequently 
very  fine  garnets  are  palmed  off  by  unscrupulous  deal- 
ers as  genuine  rubies,  although  the  fraud  can  be  readily 
detected,  as  garnet  is  a  much  softer  stone  and  has  dif- 
ferent optical  properties. 

The   sapphire  differs  from  the  ruby  only  in  its  blue 


THE    WORLD'S   GOLD.  363 

color.  Occurring  more  abundantly,  and  larger,  it  is  of 
less  value,  and  while  a  sapphire  of  one  carat  is  worth 
one  hundred  dollars,  one  of  larger  size  would  command 
a  far  less  price  in  proportion  than  a  large  diamond. 
Asteriated  sapphires  and  rubies,  which  when  cut  show 
a  six-pointed  star,  have  a  high  value  as  fancy  stones. 
The  sapphire  was  supposed  to  have  a  cooling  influence 
on  the  wearer,  and  has  long  been  the  badge  of  the 
episcopal  office.  Sapphires  come  mostly  from  Cey- 
lon ;  but  inferior  rubies  and  sapphires,  of  a  pale  hue 
and  less  transparent,  are  found  in  this  country,  espe- 
cially in  North  Carolina  and  Georgia.  They  are,  how- 
ever, valueless  as  gems. 


THE  WORLD'S  GOLD. 

[HE  Ural  Mountains,  Australia  and  the  United 
States  are  the  most  productive  sources  of  gold 
supply,  the  first  yielding  $20,000,000  annually, 
the  second  $37,000,000  and  the  third  $35,000,000. 
Prior  to  the  discovery  of  the  rich  mines  of  the 
United  States  the  total  production  was  only  $68,000,000 
per  annum. 

The  fever  for  gold  hunting,  which  was  excited  by 
the  finding  of  the  great  mines  of  the  Pacific  coast,  rap- 
idly increased  the  yearly  production,  until,  in  1850,  it 
reached  over  $120,000,000,  and  five  or  six  years  later 
gold  bullion  was  mined  to  the  extent  of  the  enormous 
sum  of  nearly  $185,000,000.  This  was  the  largest  yield 
of  any  one  year,  and  since,  production  has  gradually 


THE    WORLDS   GOLD. 

fallen  away,  and  seems  to  have  finally  reached  an 
equilibrium  of  about  $100,000,000  per  annum,  nearly  all 
of  which  is  found  in  the  three  regions  named.  Now,  if 
this  represented  the  actual  yearly  increase  in  the  volume 
of  gold  which  is  used  as  the  basis  of  the  currency  of 
gold-using  countries,  it  might  serve,  unassisted,  as  a 
standard.  But  the  fact  is,  this  production  does  little 
more  than  supply  the  place  of  that  which  disappears 
from  circulation  as  money,  annually,  by  loss  and  wear,  or 
metamorphosis  into  articles  of  commerce. 

A  few  years  ago  some  English  statistician,  after  a 
careful  investigation,  estimated  the  yearly  loss  of  gold 
coin  to  the  British  treasury  was  ,£5,000,000  sterling ; 
and  calculating  from  this  basis,  the  loss  to  the  world 
must  amount  to  nearly  the  total  production,  and  there- 
fore little  addition  to  the  bulk  of  gold  in  the  treasuries 
of  all  nations  can  be  expected.  It  is  true  that  new 
mines  may  be  found,  —  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that 
there  are  no  undiscovered  regions  rich  with  auriferous 
deposits, —  but  against  this  are  the  uncertainties  of 
discovery,  with  an  almost  certain  decrease  of  the 
present  production.  That  there  has  been  a  large  in- 
crease of  the  stock  on  hand  during  the  past  quarter  of 
a  century  cannot  be  denied,  but  this  has  been  due 
principally  to  the  remarkable  discoveries  in  the  United 
States,  which  in  a  few  years  doubled  the  store.  Thirty 
years  ago  the  entire  stock  of  gold  coin  was  only  a  little 
more  than  $3,000,000,000.  Now  it  is  $7,500,000,000, 
but  the  increase  was  made  during  a  few  years,  and  the 
past  decade  has  added  little  to  the  stock. 


PERILS   OF   THE  AERONAUT. 


PERILS   OF    THE   AERONAUT. 


365 


[HE  first  practical  discovery  of  a  means  for  navi- 
gating the  air  was  made  in  the  year  1 766,  by  a 
man  named  Cavendish,  but  not  until  the  year 
1783  was  the  discovery  developed  to  any  great 
extent.  In  the  early  part  of  the  last  year  men- 
tioned two  brothers,  paper-makers  at  Lyons,  France, 
named  Stephen  and  Joseph  Montgolfier,  sent  up 
several  balloons  inflated  with  hot  air  —  hydrogen  gas 
not  being  known  then  —  to  the  height  of  two  hundred 
feet.  These  experiments  were  looked  upon  with  won- 
der, and  the  name  Montgalfiere  became  immortalized. 

In  October  of  the  same  year  the  first  aerial  voyage 
was  made  by  M.  Pilatre  de  Roziers  and  Marquis  d'Ar- 
landes  from  Paris.  They  arose  to  the  height  of  3,000 
feet,  and  passed  entirely  over  the  city,  remaining  in 
the  air  nearly  half  an  hour.  This  air-ship  was  seventy 
feet  high,  forty-six  feet  in  diameter,  and  had  a  capacity 
of  60,000  feet.  It  was  inflated  by  hot  air  produced  by 
burning  straw  in  the  basket  below. 

The  shape  of  Montgolfier's  balloon  has  not  been 
improved  upon  to  the  present  time.  Like  the  violin, 
the  original  form  proved  to  be  the  best,  although 
hundreds  of  experiments  have  been  made,  and  every 
conceivable  shape  and  size  brought  into  use. 

After  the  successful  ascent  and  voyage  over  Paris, 
people  became  excited  and  experiments  increased 
rapidly,  and  the  following  year  two  parties  made  a 
voyage  to  the  height  of  13,000  feet,  and  reached  the 
earth  in  safety  after  remaining  in  the  air  two  hours. 
This  wonderful  success  induced  other  aeronauts  to 


366 


PERILS   OF   THE   AERONAUT. 


make  ventures  in  further  developments  of  air-ship 
flights,  and  led  to  frequent  peril.  In  1785  Pilatre  de 
Romaine  and  a  young  man  named  Laine  attempted 
to  cross  from  France  to  England  in  a  balloon.  They 
had  ascended  to  the  altitude  of  about  3,000  feet  when, 
unfortunately,  the  ship  took  fire  and  suddenly  col- 
lapsed. The  two  voyagers  were  precipitated  from  the 
giddy  height  to  the  earth,  striking  upon  the  rocks  off 
the  coast  of  France,  and  crushed  out  of  human  sem- 
blance. The  same  year  Roziers  and  his  brother  made 
a  voyage  in  a  Montgalfiere,  and  when  seven  hundred 
feet  above  the  earth  their  balloon  took  fire,  which  cost 
the  adventurers  their  lives. 

As  early  as  1796  a  Mr.  Blanchard  made  an  ascent 
from  New  York  city,  and,  to  add  to  the  interest  of  the 
occasion,  his  wife  accompanied  him.  Afterward  the 
lady  became  famous  as  an  aeronaut,  and  lost  her  life 
in  attempting  to  achieve  more  than  others  had  done. 
In  July,  1819,  she  made  an  aerial  voyage  from  the 
Tivoli  Garden  of  Paris,  where  thousands  of  people  had 
congregated  to  witness  a  grand  display  of  fireworks  in 
the  heavens  that  she  had  announced  would  be  given. 
The  balloon  mounted  to  the  clouds  in  the  darkness 
of  the  night,  and  the  multitude  witnessed  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  spectacles  that  had  ever  been  beheld. 
Millions  of  brilliant  stars  in  varied  colors  shone  and 
darted,  sparkled  and  vanished  to  be  followed  by  mill- 
ions of  others.  At  last  a  great  light  was  seen,  and 
the  word  was  started,  by  those  who  understood  what 
it  signified,  that  the  balloon  was  on  fire.  Madam  Blan- 
chard had.  under  the  excitement  of  the  occasion,  been 
careless  in  the  use  of  her  torch,  and  the  line  of  gas 
had  taken  fire  below  and  flashed  to  the  body  of  the 
great  vessel.  A  chill  of  horror  followed  the  terrible 


PERILS  OF  THE  AERONAUT. 


•568  PERILS   OF   THE   AERONAUT. 

words'  through  the  densely  packed  throng,  and  anxious 
eyes  watched  the  slow  descent  of  the  great  fiery  object. 
At  last  the  light  went  out,  and  the  multitude  waited 
with  bated  breath  until  the  word  came  that  Madam 
Blanchard  had  been  picked  up  mangled  and  dead  from 
the  pavement  of  one  of  the  streets  of  Paris. 

On  the  25th  of  November,  1802,  Olivari  made  an 
ascent  from  Orleans  in  a  paper  balloon,  strengthened 
only  by  strips  of  cloth.  The  air-ship  was  large,  and 
reached  a  great  height,  and  when  scarcely  visible  to  the 
naked  eye,  through  some  unknown  means  took  fire  and 
collapsed.  Olivari  made  a  rapid  downward  plunge,  and 
his  mutilated  remains  were  gathered  up  three  miles  from 
the  point  where  he  had  waved  an  adieu  but  a  few  min- 
utes before. 

A  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Mosment  made  an  aerial 
voyage  in  a  silk  balloon  in  1806.  He  started  from  the 
city  of  Lille,  France,  with  high  expectations,  and  his 
ascent  was  witnessed  by  a  large  concourse  of  people. 
The  air-ship  was  large  and  beautiful  in  design  and  finish. 
It  mounted  upward  majestically,  and  the  lookers-on 
believed  that  no  disaster  could  come,  as  everything  had 
been  prepared  with  the  utmost  care.  The  balloon  did 
prove  to  be  as  trustworthy  as  it  had  been  expected,  but 
the  unfortunate  Mosment,  by  some  accident,  fell  from 
the  basket  when  thousands  of  feet  above  the  earth,  and 
came  whirling  downward,  while  the  huge  vessel  darted 
skyward  and  sailed  proudly  away.  The  ill-fated  aeronaut 
was  found  half-buried  in  the  sand  not  far  from  the  city 
limits. 

In  the  same  year  Bittorff,  notwithstanding  the  ill  luck 
of  Olivari,  made  an  ascent  in  a  paper  balloon  from  Mon- 
heim,  on  the  Rhine.  He  arose  above  the  clouds  in  tri- 
umph, not  believing  that  he  was  to  meet  a  fate,  if  pos- 


PERILS   OF   THE  AERONAUT.  o^g 

sible,  even  more  terrible  than  that  of  his  ambitious 
fellow-aeronaut ;  but  it  came.  The  ship  took  fire  and, 
flaming  out  from  the  top,  burned  away  the  cords  that 
held  the  basket.  He  grasped  in  terror  the  frail,  unsup- 
porting  ropes,  and  plunged  down  through  the  awful 
depths,  and,  landing  upon  the  city,  had  every  bone  in  his 
body  crushed  to  atoms. 

In  1824  a  man  by  the  name  of  Harris  went  up  in  a 
balloon  from  London,  taking  as  company  a  young  lady 
of  remarkable  courage  and  intelligence.  The  ship,  being 
fully  inflated,  ascended  rapidly,  and  reached  a  great  alti- 
tude before  the  aeronaut  could  control  the  object.  There 
was  a  defect  in  the  working  of  the  escape  valve  at  the 
top,  and  finally  when  it  was  pulled  open  it  could  not  be 
closed  again.  The  gas  rushed  out  with  terrific -force, 
and  the  position  became  more  perilous  than  before.  The 
balloon  began  to  descend,  and  it  was  known  that  every 
moment  would  increase  the  speed  of  the  downward 
flight.  Harris  worked  at  the  valve  rope  until  satisfied 
that  there  was  no  hope  of  closing  the  cap  ;  then  he 
threw  out  all  of  the  ballast.  This  lessened  the  velocity 
of  the  shrunken,  swaying  ship,  but  not  sufficiently  to 
save  the  lives  of  the  voyagers.  They  were  nearing  the 
earth  still  at  a  rapid  rate  ;  both  must  perish  if  both 
clung  to  the  basket.  Harris  knew  this,  and  in  the  gen- 
erousness  of  his  nature  he  leaped  from  the  over-cum- 
bered craft  and  met  a  sudden  death,  while  the  lightened 
balloon  became  gentle  in  its  motion,  and  landed  the  lady 
with  but  slight  bruises. 

In  the  same  year  the  celebrated  English  aeronaut, 
Sadler,  was  killed  while  making  an  ascent.  His  balloon, 
sailing  low,  was  driven  against  a  chimney,  and  the 
voyager  thrown  out  and  killed. 

We  will  not  dwell  longer  upon  the  painful  scenes 


370 


PERILS    OF   THE   AERONAUT. 


connected  with  aerial  voyages.  The  particulars  of  the 
disasters  which  have  occurred  in  this  country  are  fa- 
miliar to  the  reader.  Prominent  among  these  are  the 
sad  fates  of  Thurston,  who  made  an  involuntary  ascent 
from  Adrian,  Michigan,  and  fell  from  the  balloon,  after 
becoming  exhausted  in  attempting  to  sustain  himself  by 
clinging  to  the  cords  on  the  side  of  the  monster,  and 
Donaldson  and  Grimwood,  who  were  swept  by  storm 
out  over  the  lake,  to  eternity,  from  Chicago,  in  1875. 

After  about  1820  ballooning  became  very  common  in 
all  civilized  countries.  A  Mr.  Green,  between  the  date 
mentioned  and  1857,  made  some  fourteen  hundred 
ascents.  In  1836  he  made  a  happy  record^in  affecting 
a  transit  of  five  hundred  miles  in  eighteen  hours  — 
nearly  twenty-eight  miles  per  hour. 

Mr.  John  Wise,  in  1859,  took  all  the  glory  away 
from  the  English  aeronaut  when  he  made  his  celebrated 
voyage  from  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  to  Jefferson  county,  New 
York,  a  distance  of  eleven  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  in 
nineteen  hours  and  fifty  minutes,  being  over  fifty-seven 
miles  per  hour.  But  Wise  did  not  hold  the  palm  for 
speed  for  any  great  length  of  time.  In  the  same  year  two 
men  named  Mountain  and  Lowe  made  a  voyage  of  three 
hundred  miles  in  four  hours, —  an  average  of  seventy-five 
miles  an  hour. 

As  singular  as  it  may  appear,  the  great  majority  of 
balloon  ascents  have  not  been  made  in  aid  of  science, 
but  to  gratify  an  ambition  for  adventure,  or  for  pecuniary 
gain.  In  1862  Messrs.  Glaisher  and  Coxwell,  experi- 
enced aeronauts,  reached  the  unparalleled  height  of 
seven  miles  from  the  earth.  At  that  altitude  human 
life  can  barely  be  preserved.  Both  men  lost  the  use  of 
their  limbs.  Mr.  Coxwell,  at  the  time  of  reaching  the 
highest  point,  was  in  the  rigging  attempting  to  free  the 


MIRROR  LAKE.  371 

valve  rope,  which  had  become  entangled  ;  benumbed,  he 
fell  back  into  the  car,  where  he  found  Glaisher  insensi- 
ble. His  hands  were  no  longer  under  his  control,  a 
stupor  was  rapidly  falling  upon  him,  but  he  yet  retained 
enough  of  reason  to  comprehend  the  situation,  and 
realized  that  something  must  be  done  at  once.  Clinching 
the  valve  rope  in  his  teeth,  he  dipped  his  head  down- 
ward with  force  enough  to  give  vent  to  the  gas,  and  the 
monster  air-ship  gradually  settled  to  earth  again. 

Attempts  have  been  made  to  put  the  balloon  to 
practical  uses,  especially  in  time  of  war,  but  as  its 
course  is  marked  by  the  currents  of  air  which  it  comes 
in  contact  with,  the  experiments  have  not  proven  en- 
tirely satisfactory. 


MIRROR   LAKE. 

MONG  the  most  notable  features  of  the  wonder- 
ful Yosemite  Valley  is  Mirror  Lake,  a  small 
body  of  water,  pure  as  crystal,  nestled  among  the 
huge  mountains,  and  during  the  morning  hours, 
even  until  the  god  of  day  has  peered  over  the 
lofty  crests  upon  its  placid  surface,  the  waters  give 
back  a  reflection  of  everything  along  their  borders  in 
such  perfection  of  outline  and  color,  that  one  can 
scarcely  tell  where  the  shore  begins.  While  other 
scenes  around  awe  into  silence,  this  brings  forth  ex- 
pressions of  happy  admiration. 


THE  STORT  OF  AN  INVENTION.  37 3 


THE    STORY   OF   AN    INVENTION. 

•T  may  not  be  generally  known  that  an  imper- 
il tant  invention  in  connection  with  the  manu- 
facture of  carpets  originated  as  follows:  An 
operative  weaver,  in  a  large  establishment,  was 
engaged  in  weaving  a  carpet  that  in  its  finished 
stage  would  appear  as  a  velvet  pile.  At  that 
period  this  description  of  carpet  was  woven  much 
in  the  manner  of  Brussels,  the  loops  being  afterward 
cut  by  hand  —  a  slow  and  costly  process.  These  loops 
were  formed  by  the  insertion  of  wires  of  the  requisite 
thickness  to  form  the  loop ;  they  were  then  withdrawn. 
This  weaver  —  whether  by  cogitation  or  the  result  of  a 
bright  thought  —  came  to  the  conclusion  that  if  these 
wires  were  so  constructed  as,  on  being  withdrawn,  to 
cut  the  loops,  thus  instantly  completing  the  formation 
of  the  pile,  it  would  be  a  great  saving  of  labor  and 
time,  and  a  great  economy.  Taking  one  of  the  rods, 
he  changed  its  form  to  the  required  shape,  ground  a 
knife-edge  upon  it,  took  it  to  his  looms,  and  inserted  it 
into  the  web  —  all  the  while  maintaining  strict  secrecy  — 
and  with  some  degree  of  excitement  watched  its  weav- 
ing down  until  the  moment  of  its  withdrawal.  This 
came,  the  rod  was  drawn  out,  the  loops  were  cut,  and 
the  experiment  was  a  perfect  success,  the  pile  being  cut 
with  great  evenness. 

The  weaver,  with  a  shrewdness  often  wanting  in 
inventors,  doubled  up  the  rod  and  hid  it  away,  wove 
down  the  line  of  cut  loops  upon  the  roll,  then  "  knocked 
off,"  or  stopped  his  loom,  and  proceeded  to  the  office  of 
the  mill,  where  he  demanded  to  see  the  principal.  The 


374 


THE  STORY  OF  AN  INVENTION. 


clerk  demurred  to  this,  asking  if  he  himself  could  not 
do  all  that  was  required ;  but  no,  the  weaver  persisted. 
Then  the  manager  tried,  but  with  the  same  result ;  only 
the  principal  would  suit  the  weaver.  The  employer 
was  informed  of  the  operative's  persistence  in  deter- 
mining to  see  him ;  so  he  at  once  ordered  him  to  be 
admitted.  This  was  done,  and  the  weaver  stepped 
into  the  well-furnished  and  handsomely  carpeted  office 
of  the  manufacturer.  His  employer  addressed  him: 
"  Well,  John,"  (for  so  we  will  call  him,)  "what  is  it  you 
want?"  "Well,  maister,  I've  getten  summut  you  mun 
hev,"  replied  John.  "  Wodn't  yo  like  a  way  ut  makkin 
t'  loom  cut  th'  velvet  piles?"  continued  the  weaver. 
"  Yes !  that  I  would  ! "  replied  the  employer ;  "  and  I 
will  reward  any  man  handsomely  who  brings  me  a  plan 
of  doing  it,"  added  he.  "  Awm  yore  mon,  then,"  said 
the  operative.  "  Wod'll  yo  gi  me  ?  "  he  further  asked. 
After  some  further  conversation  a  bargain  was  struck, 
and  a  sum  agreed  upon,  which  the  weaver  should  be 
entitled  to  claim  in  the  event  of  his  plan  for  automat- 
ically cutting  the  pile  of  the  carpet  being  a  success. 
Arrangements  were  made  for  its  trial ;  the  weaver 
made  his  preparations ;  the  master,  the  manager,  and 
one  or  two  confidential  employes  gathered  around  the 
loom  upon  which  the  experiment  had  to  be  made,  all 
others  being  sent  outside  the  range  of  observation. 
The  new  form  of  wires  was  inserted,  woven  down, 
and  withdrawn,  leaving  a  well  cut  pile  upon  the  face 
of  the  carpet.  The  weaver  had  won  his  reward,  for  it 
was  honorably  paid.  An  annuity  of  five  hundred  dol- 
lars was  settled  upon  him,  which  he  continued  to  enjoy 
until  witnin  a  recent  date,  and  for  anything  we  know  to 
the  contrary  may  be  enjoying  it  yet.  He  retired  from 
the  weaving-shed,  determined  to  spend  the  rest  of  his 


FALLS   OF   THE  ZAMBESI. 


375 


days  in  ease  and  comfort.  His  employer  secured  by 
patent  the  benefits  of  his  invention,  it  being  one,  among 
several  others,  which  contributed  to  place  that  manu- 
facturing establishment  in  the  foremost  rank  in  the 
trade;  while  its  owners  attained  wealth  and  social  emi- 
nence as  the  reward  of  their  prudent  enterprise. 


FALLS    OF    THE  ZAMBESI. 

[MONG  the  multitude  of  interesting  things  nar- 
rated by  David  Livingstone,  respecting  the 
scenes  encountered  during  his  travels  in  South 
Africa,  no  one  is  more  interesting  than  his  visit  to 
the  Falls  of  Victoria,  so  named  by  himself  (called 
Mosioatunya  or  Shongwe  by  the  natives),  in  the  Zam- 
besi river.  Livingstone,  with  his  guide,  went  down  the 
river  in  a  canoe,  and  after  twenty  minutes'  sail  from 
Kalia  they  came  in  sight  of  the  columns  of  vapor  ap- 
propriately called  "  smoke,"  rising  at  a  distance  of  five 
or  six  miles,  exactly  as  when  large  tracts  of  grass  are 
burned  in  Africa.  He  wrote  : 

"  Five  columns  now  arose,  and,  bending  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wind,  they  seemed  placed  against  a  low  ridge 
covered  with  trees  ;  the  tops  of  the  columns  at  this  dis- 
tance appeared  to  mingle  with  the  clouds.  They  were 
white  below,  and  higher  up  became  dark,  so  as  to  simu- 
late smoke  very  closely.  The  whole  scene  was  extremely 
beautiful ;  the  banks  and  islands  dotted  over  the  river 
are  adorned  with  sylvan  vegetation  of  great  variety  of 
color  and  form. 


376  FALLS   OF   THE  ZAMBESI. 

"  Passing  down  the  center  of  the  stream  in  the  eddies 
and  still  places,  caused  by  many  jutting  rocks,  brought 
me  to  an  island  situated  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  and 
on  the  edge  oi"  the  lip  over  which  the  water  rolls.  In 
coming  hither  there  was  danger  of  being  swept  down 
by  the  streams  which  rushed  along  on  each  side  of  the 
island  ;  but  the  river  was  now  low,  and  we  sailed  where 
it  is  totally  impossible  to  go  when  the  water  is  high. 
But  though  we  reached  the  island,  and  were  within  a 
few  yards  of  the  spot,  a  view  from  which  would  solve 
the  whole  problem,  I  believe  that  no  one  could  perceive 
where  the  vast  body  of  water  went.  It  seemed  to  lose 
itself  in  the  earth,  the  opposite  lip  of  the  fissure  into 
which  it  disappeared  being  only  eighty  feet  distant.  At 
least  I  did  not  comprehend  it  until,  creeping  with  awe 
to  the  verge,  I  peered  down  into  a  large  rent  which  had 
been  made  from  bank  to  bank  of  the  broad  Zambesi, 
and  saw  that  a  stream  of  a  thousand  yards  broad  leaped 
down  a  hundred  feet,  and  then  became  suddenly  com- 
pressed into  a  space  of  fifteen  or  twenty  yards.  The 
entire  falls  are  simply  a  crack  made  in  a  hard,  basaltic 
rock,  from  the  right  to  the  left  bank  of  the  Zambesi,  and 
then  prolonged  from  the  left  bank  away  through  thirty 
or  forty  miles  of  hills. 

"In  looking  down  into  the  fissure  on  the  right  of  the 
island  one  sees  nothing  but  a  dense  white  cloud,  which, 
at  the  time  we  visi:ed  the  spot,  had  two  bright  rainbows 
on  it.  From  this  cloud  rushed  up  a  great  jet  of  vapor 
exactly  like  steam,  and  it  mounted  two  hundred  or  three 
hundred  feet  high  ;  there  condensing,  it  changed  its  hue 
to  that  of  dark  smoke,  and  came  back  in  a  constant 
shower,  which  soon  wetted  us  to  the  skin. 

"  On  the  left  side  of  the  island  we  have  a  good  view 
of  the  mass  of  water  which  causes  one  of  the  columns 


FALLS   OF   THE    ZAMBESI,   AFRICA. 


378 


FALLS   OF   THE  ZAMBESI. 


of  vapor  to  ascend,  as  it  leaps  quite  clear  of  the  rock, 
and  forms  a  thick,  unbroken  fleece  all  the  way  to  the 
bottom.  Its  whiteness  gave  the  idea  of  snow,  a  sight 
I  had  not  seen  for  many  a  day.  As  it  broke  into  (if  I 
may  use  the  term)  pieces  of  water,  all  rushing  on  in 
the  same  direction,  each  gave  off  several  rays  of  foam 
exactly  as  bits  of  steel,  when  burned  in  oxygen  gas, 
give  off  rays  of  sparks.  The  snow-white  sheet  seemed 
like  myriads  of  small  comets  rushing  on  in  one  direc- 
tion, each  of  which  left  behind  its  nucleus  rays  of  foam. 
I  never  saw  the  appearance  referred  to  noticed  else- 
where. It  seemed  to  be  the  effect  of  the  mass  of  water 
leaping  at  once  clear  of  the  rock,  and  but  slowly  break- 
ing up  into  spray. 

"  I  have  mentioned  that  we  saw  five  columns  of 
vapor  ascending  from  this  strange  abyss.  They  are 
evidently  formed  by  the  compression  suffered  by  the 
force  of  the  water's  own  fall  into  an  unyielding,  wedge- 
shaped  space.  Of  the  five  columns,  two  on  the  right 
and  one  on  the  left  of  the  island  were  the  largest,  and 
the  streams  which  formed  them  seemed  each  to  exceed 
in  size  the  falls  of  the  Clyde  at  Stonebyres  when  that 
river  is  in  flood.  This  was  the  period  of  low  water 
in  the  Leeambye ;  but,  as  far  as  I  could  guess,  there 
was  a  flow  of  five  or  six  hundred  yards  of  water,  which 
at  the  edge  of  the  fall  seemed  at  least  three  feet  deep. 

"  The  fissure  is  said  by  the  Makololo  to  be  very 
much  deeper  farther  to  the  eastward  ;  there  is  one  part 
at  which  the  walls  are  so  sloping  that  people  accus- 
tomed to  it  can  go  down  by  descending  in  a  sitting 
position.  The  Makololo  on  one  occasion  pursuing 
some  fugitive  Batoka,  saw  them,  unable  to  stop  the 
impetus  of  their  flight  at  the  edge,  literally  dashed  to 
pieces  at  the  bottom.  They  beheld  the  stream  like 


THE  MANUFACTURE  OF  IRON.  379 

a  '  white  cord '  at  the  bottom,  and  so  far  down  (prob- 
ably 300  feet)  that  they  became  giddy,  and  were  fain 
to  go  away  holding  on  to  the  ground. 

"It  had  never  been  seen  before  by  European  eyes ; 
but  scenes  so  lovely  must  have  been  gazed  upon  by 
angels  in  their  flight." 


THE    MANUFACTURE    OF   IRON. 

all  the  mineral  treasures  that  the  earth  affords, 
there  is  none  more  useful  or  necessary  for  the 
wants  of  man  than  iron.  Take  this  single  metal 
away  and  all  the  boasted  progression  of  the  age 
would  relapse  into  the  narrow  confines  bordering 
on  the  primitive  arts  of  the  untutored  natives. 
Among  the  many  varieties  of  iron  ore  in  the  United 
States  may  be  mentioned  the  magnetic  ore,  the  bog  ore, 
the  brown  hematite,  etc.  Pennsylvania  is  particularly 
rich  in  iron  ore  as  well  as  coal ;  and  a  visit  to  one  of 
her  numerous  iron  manufacturing  establishments,  with 
its  flaming  furnaces  and  adjacent  rolling  mills,  situated 
in  a  busy  coal  mining  village,  with  tall,  black  chimneys 
vomiting  flame,  and  wreathed  in  columns  of  billows  of 
thick  smoke  from  a  hundred  locomotives  and  stationary 
engines  driving  a  world  of  whirring,  jarring  machinery 
everywhere,  will  well  repay  the  tourist  or  scientific  trav- 
eler. Eastern  Tennessee  presents  similar  scenes;  and 
the  city  of  Glasgow,  in  Scotland,  and  several  cities  of 
England,  where  coal  and  iron  are  found  together  in 
abundance,  swarm  with  foundries  and  blazing  furnaces. 
Proceeding  to  the  furnace,  the  observer  finds  before 


^g0  THE  MANUFACTURE   OF  IRON. 

him  a  great  stone  structure,  forty  or  fifty  feet  in  height. 
A  chamber  or  opening  some  six  or  eight  feet  square, 
lined  with  fire-proof  brick,  extends  through  the  entire 
edifice  from  top  to  bottom.  An  embankment  extends 
from  near  the  mouth  of  the  mine  upward,  with  a  gentle 
slope  to  the  top  of  the  furnace.  Along  this  there  is  a 
smooth  track  or  pathway  constantly  threaded  by  a  busy 
throng.  Back  near  the  mine  a  company  of  men  are 
seen  carting  and  wheeling  coal  and  iron-stone  to  the 
"  Roasting  Bed."  A  vast  layer  of  coal  is  placed  on  the 
ground,  in  the  open  air,  and  upon  this  is  dumped  a  large 
quantity  of  the  ore.  Another  layer  of  coal  follows,  to 
be  succeeded  by  another  layer  of  ore ;  and  so  alter- 
nately until  a  considerable  pyramid  is  formed,  when 
the  coal  is  set  on  fire,  and  the  entire  heap  becomes  a 
mass  of  glowing  heat.  By  this  means  the  iron-stone 
is  roasted  and  freed  from  its  sulphur  and  water.  It  is 
now  ready  for  the  furnace.  An  army  of  laborers  wheel 
it  forward,  up  the  smooth  inclined  plane,  together  with 
a  vast  quantity  of  coal  and  earthy  substance,  sometimes 
clay  and  sometimes  limestone.  These  latter  materials 
are  thrown  in  with  the  rest,  to  assist  in  separating  the 
earthy  matters  found  naturally  united  with  the  metal  in 
the  ore.  It  is  termed  flux,  and  assists  in  drawing  the 
impurities  from  the  molten  iron. 

Iron  pipes  open  into  the  furnace  underneath,  through 
which  a  current  of  air  is  blown  with  great  force  by  a 
steam-engine.  This  is  termed  "  the  blast."  Sometimes 
the  blast-pipes  wind  around  the  inside  of  the  furnace 
before  opening  into  it,  by  which  means  they  become  so 
heated  that  the  forced  current  of  air  in  the  interior 
becomes  hot  enough  to  melt  lead.  This  is  known  as 
the  hot  blast,  and  is  much  more  useful  in  reducing  the 
mass  of  material  to  a  fluid  state  than  the  cold  blast. 


THE  MANUFACTURE   OF  IRON.  381 

The  time  having  arrived  for  drawing  off  the  melted 
metal,  the  workman  steps  forward  to  remove  the  plug 
from  the  bottom  of  the  furnace.  Within  is  more  than 
a  hundred  tons  of  fiercely  burning  matter,  roaring  and 
glowing  with  intense  heat  that,  under  the  action  of  the 
hot  blast,  has  for  hours  been  sending  vivid  columns  of 
flame  in  jets  and  angry  flashes  from  its  summit.  In- 
voluntarily the  observer  moves  back,  and  the  next 
moment  the  plug  is  withdrawn.  A  vivid  white-hot 
stream  of  liquid  iron  pours  forth,  dazzling  the  eye 
with  its  intense  brightness  as  it  falls  like  water  from  a 
spout,  and  courses  along  a  straight,  narrow  trench  or 
channel  in  the  sand-bed.  From  this  channel,  which  is 
denominated  the  sow,  numerous  little  channels  branch 
off  laterally  along  the  sides.  These  are  termed  pigs. 
The  beholder  looks  on  with  surprise  almost  akin  to 
fear,  while  the  glowing  fluid  mass  rolls  along  the  chan- 
nel and  spreads  into  the  lateral  branches,  seething, 
hissing,  and  sending  up  minute  coruscations  and  sparks 
as  it  proceeds,  shedding  a  heated  glow  over  everything, 
and  blinding  the  eye  with  overpowering  effulgence. 

At  length  the  molten  stream  is  stayed  and  the  metal 
allowed  to  cool.  Its  brightness  soon  begins  to  fade, — 
turns  to  pale  ash  color,  and  gradually  changes  to  the 
darker  color  of  cold  iron.  As  soon  as  it  is  sufficiently 
cool  to  handle  the  lateral  branches,  or  pigs,  are  broken 
off  and  piled  up  in  immense  heaps.  This  is  what  is 
known  as  pig-iron,  and  is  not  perfectly  pure. 

We  have  described  a  furnace  situated  near  the  mouth 
of  an  iron-mine.  Sometimes,  however.'they  are  built  at 
a  distance  away,  when  the  ore  has  to  be  brought  to  the 
spot  by  railroad. 

The  crude  pig-iron  is  now  ready  to  be  transferred  to 
the  puddling  furnaces  and  rolling-mills.  These  great 


~g2  THE  MANUFACTURE   OF  IRON. 

dingy-looking  buildings,  with  rows  of  tall,  blackened 
chimneys,  rendered  conspicuous  by  quick,  short  puffs  of 
black  smoke,  that  settle  in  great  masses  over  the  vicinity, 
and  by  the  heavy,  measured  clang  and  jar  of  tremendous 
forge  hammers,  are  observed  not  far  away,  and  thither 
we  bend  our  steps.  The  doors  are  generally  found  wide 
open,  notwithstanding  over  many  of  them  are  placed 
the  well  known  words,  "  No  admittance."  There  is  no 
floor,  and  the  smooth,  hard  ground  is  in  many  places 
covered  with  dust  and  cinders.  A  babel  of  heavy 
machinery  meets  the  view.  Huge  steam-engines  are 
laboring  in  almost  every  direction,  and  the  rattle  of 
wheels  and  belts  and  the  sharp  hiss  of  escaping  steam 
are  heard  continually. 

Passing  long  piles  of  old  iron  and  new  castings,  and 
vast  ranks  or  cords  of  new  pig-iron,  we  approach  the 
puddling  furnaces.  A  number  of  bars  of  this  crude 
iron  are  taken  from  the  pile  and  thrown  into  the  furnace, 
the  door  of  which  is  shut,  and  the  blast  applied.  Hotter 
and  hotter  the  mass  becomes,  and  at  length  it  dissolves, 
and  commences  to  seethe  and  boil  in  a  fluid  sea  of 
melted  cinders.  The  workmen,  stripped  to  the  waist, 
leap  forward  and  throw  open  the  little  circular  door  of 
the  furnace,  and  with  long  iron  rods  commence  to  work 
and  knead  the  melted  mass  as  though  it  were  wax  or 
dough.  The  sweat  pours  down  their  hardy  faces,  which 
glow  in  the  brilliant  glare  of  the  open  furnace.  After 
it  has  been  worked  and  stirred  sufficiently,  a  barrow  is 
trundled  up,  and  an  incandescent  ball  of  a  hundred 
pounds  weight  or  more  drops  from  the  glowing  furnace- 
jaws,  and  is  quickly  wheeled  away  to  a  huge  iron 
machine  of  great  strength,  termed  the  crocodile,  or 
squeezer.  To  one  unaccustomed  to  the  place  the  heat 
is  absolutely  intolerable,  and  we  willingly  move  back 


THE   MANUFACTURE   OF  IRON.  383 

from  before  the  hissing  semi-molten  ball  of  iron  that 
illuminates  the  whole  interior  of  the  building  with  a 
red,  dazzling  flood  of  light,  and  content  ourselves  with 
beholding  the  work  at  a  proper  distance. 

As  the  fiery  mass  enters  the  ponderous  machine  it 
comes  in  contact  with  cold  water,  and  a  sharp  explosion 
ensues.  The  crocodile,  worked  by  steam-power,  squeezes 
out  the  cinders,  and  presses  the  iron  into  a  lengthened 
cylindrical  form.  It  is  now  grasped  by  a  huge  tongs, 
suspended  by  chains  and  pulleys,  and  handled  by  a  sin- 
gle workman,  swung  around  and  placed  between  the 
rollers.  As  the  red-hot  bar  emerges  from  the  groove  on 
the  opposite  side,  another  set  of  men  stand  in  readiness 
to  seize  and  return  it  through  an  adjoining  groove. 
Back  and  forth  it  glides  between  those  powerful  rollers, 
each  time  by  a  different  groove,  changing  its  shape; 
until  it  last  it  assumes  the  desired  form.  In  this  way 
railroad  bars  or  rails  are  made.  While  yet  red-hot  it  is 
taken  from  the  rollers,  placed  upon  a  carriage,  and  sawn 
off  at  the  desired  length,  with  as  much  apparent  ease  as 
though  it  had  been  a  stick  of  wood. 

Sometimes  a  mass  of  pig-iron  is  reduced  to  a  bright, 
semi-fluid  state  in  the  forge-fire,  and  then  placed  beneath 
an  immense  forge-hammer,  which,  being  moved  by 
powerful  machinery,  strikes  blows  that  fairly  make  the 
building  jar.  Coruscations  and  showers  of  scintillating 
sparks  fly  far  and  near  like  a  deluge  of  fiery  rain.  After 
the  impurities  are  hammered  out,  it  is  formed  into  a 
rounded  shape,  a  foot  or  more  in  length,  termed  a 
"  bloom." 

During  the  evening,  in  the  summer-time,  these  fur- 
naces and  rolling-mills  present  a  scene  that  baffles  all 
description.  The  crown  of  livid,  flashing  flame  that  sur- 
mounts the  tall  chimneys ;  the  great  Cyclopean  eye  of 


~g,  THE  MANUFACTURE   OF  IRON. 

fire  that  glares  from  every  window ;  the  long  streams  of 
vivid  light  that  pour  forth  like  tongues  of  flame  from 
every  open  door,  form  a  striking  contrast  with  the  dark- 
ness without.  The  fire  of  the  numerous  puddling  and 
heating  furnaces ;  the  red  glare  of  the  blooms,  as  they 
are  borne  along  to  the  squeezer ;  the  pale,  translucent 
heat  of  the  flat  plates,  as  they  are  run  through  the 
rollers  ;  the  rattle  and  movements  of  the  stupendous  and 
complicated  machinery ;  the  peculiar  buzz  and  extra- 
ordinary evolutions  of  the  large  fly-wheel  ;  the  hasty 
and  determined  movements  of  hundreds  of  athletic  arti- 
sans,—  all  convey  an  idea  of  industry  and  enterprise 
perfectly  magnificent  to  contemplate. 

The  history  of  iron  manufacture  in  the  United 
States  is  of  curious  interest.  In  the  year  1607  the 
Virginia  Colony  was  planted  at  Jamestown,  and  three 
years  later  Sir  Thomas  Gates  (as  quoted  by  Bishop 
in  his  History  of  American  Manufactures)  testified 
before  a  committee  of  Parliament  that  "various  min- 
erals were  found  in  Virginia,  especially  iron  ore,  which 
had  been  tested  in  England,  and  found  to  produce  as 
good  iron  as  any  in  the  world." 

In  1619  the  company  sent  to  the  colony  a  number 
of  select  workmen  skilled  in  iron  making,  "to  set  up 
three  iron-works."  These  workmen  selected  a  location 
on  Falling  Creek,  not  far  from  Jamestown,  and  pro- 
ceeded immediately  to  execute  their  mission,  but 
whether  they  built  three  works  or  one  we  are  not  in- 
formed. In  1621,  three  of  the  master  workmen  having 
died,  the  company  reinforced  the  "  iron-works "  by 
sending  over  twenty  experienced  workmen,  under  the 
direction  of  John  Berkley  and  his  son,  who  were  expert 
iron-masters. 

The  enterprise  appears  to  have  been,  in  the  main, 


THE  MANUFACTURE   OF  IRON. 


385 


successful ;  for  Beverly,  in  his  colonial  history,  says  that 
"  the  iron  proved  reasonably  good,  though  they  had 
not  got  into  the  body  of  the  mine."  But  in  the  dis- 
astrous massacre  of  1622  the  Indians  killed  most  of  the 
workmen  and  destroyed  the  works,  and  the  company 
made  no  attempt  to  rebuild  them. 

The  "  ironworks  "  at  Falling  Creek  was  probably  a 
Catlan  forge  or  bloomery,  which  required  no  great 
skill  nor  expense  for  its  erection.  It  is  not  improb- 
able, therefore,  that  iron  was  made  by  the  Virginia 
Colony  as  early  as  1620,  and  this  was  evidently  the 
first  fruits  of  our  iron  harvest.  The  ore  at  Falling 
Creek  is  brown  hematite.  It  is  strange  that  an  industry 
which  opened  with  prospects  so  flattering  should  have 
been  suffered  to  sleep  for  nearly  a  century  before  any 
effort  was  made  to  revive  it,  but  colonial  history  makes 
no  mention  of  iron-works  in  Virginia  after  this  till  the 
year  1715. 

In  1637  the  General  Court  of  Massachusetts  Bay 
granted  to  Abraham  Shaw  "  one-half  the  benefit  of 
any  coles  or  yron  stone  which  shall  be  found  in  any 
common  ground  which  is  in  the  countrye's  disposing." 
Under  this  charter  bog  iron  ore  was  discovered  at 
Lynn,  and  specimens  of  it  taken  to  London  to  induce 
the  formation  of  a  company  to  manufacture  iron  from 
it.  This  was  successful,  for  in  1643  John  Winthrop, 
Jr.,  came  from  England- with  workmen,  and  capital  to 
the  amount  of  one  thousand  pounds,  and  erected  a 
"foundry"  on  the  western  bank  of  Saugus  river.  The 
village  was  called  Hammersmith. 

In  November,  1644,  the  general  court  granted 
citizens  the  privilege  of  taking  stock  in  the  enterprise, 
and  gave  them  "  three  years  for  ye  perfecting  their 
worke  and  furnishing  of  ye  country  with  all  kinds  of 

25 


,g6  THE  MANUFACTURE   OF  IRON. 

barr  iron,  provided  they  would  complete  the  finery  and 
forge,  as  well  as  the  furnace,  which  is  already  set  up." 
The  company  was  granted  eighteen  square  miles  of 
land  to  foster  the  new  industry. 

In  1645  they  reported  to  the  general  court  that 
"  the  iron  worke  is  very  successful  both  in  ye  richness 
of  ye  ore  and  ye  goodness  of  ye  iron,"  and  they  report 
further  that  "  some  tuns  of  sowe  iron  has  been  cast, 
and  is  in  readiness  for  ye  forge." 

On  this  report  the  general  court  granted  still 
further  privileges  to  the  company  of  undertakers  for 
the  iron-works,  on  the  condition  that  they  should  erect 
and  operate  six  furnaces,  "  and  not  bloomaryes  only, 
and  that  they  should  furnish  barr  iro^  of  all  sorts  for 
not  exceeding  twenty  pounds  per  tunne." 

This  Massachusetts  enterprise  was  the  successful 
erection  and  working  of  blast  furnaces  for  making  cast- 
ings for  the  various  practical  uses  to  which  that  form 
of  the  metal  was  applied,  and  the  reducing  of  what  the 
report  quaintly  calls  sowe  iron  to  bars  of  wrought  iron 
under  the  forge  hammer. 

This  may  be  regarded  as  the  practical  introduction 
of  iron  manufacturing  into  the  United  States.  In  1648 
Governor  Winthrop  writes  that  "  the  ironworks  at 
Lynn  runs  eight  tons  per  week,  and  their  iron  is  as 
good  as  Spanish." 

Between  this  and  the  year  1675  furnaces  were 
erected  at  Braintree,  at  Taunton  and  at  Topsfield.  In 
the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  Lynn  was 
as  celebrated  for  its  iron  manufacture  as  it  has  since 
become  for  the  production  of  shoes.  Pots,  kettles,  and 
other  household  utensils  were  produced  at  the  Lynn 
foundries  equal  to  those  imported  from  Europe,  and 
as  early  as  1650  we  find  one  Joseph  Jenks  engaged  in 


THE  MANUFACTURE   OF  IRON.  387 

the  manufacture  of  scythes  and  other  edge-tools ;  and 
about  this  time,  by  order  of  the  general  court,  cannon 
were  cast  and  finished  at  Lynn  for  the  defense  of  the 
colony. 

In  1656  Capt  Thomas  Clarke  put  into  operation  an 
"iron  worke"  at  New  Haven,  Connecticut,  under  a 
guarantee  of  the  Assembly  that  such  "  worke  "  should 
be  exempt  from  the  payment  of  tax;  and  in  1670  the 
enterprise  appears  to  have  been  flourishing.  There 
was  an  "  iron  worke,"  perhaps  a  bloomary,  at  Pawtucket, 
in  Rhode  Island,  as  early  as  1672,  and  subsequently 
several  others  were  started  —  all  of  which  were  destroyed 
in  the  Indian  war  of  1680. 

In  1664  Henry  Leonard,  one  of  the  first  iron-workers 
at  Lynn,  removed  to  Shrewsbury,  New  Jersey,  and  set 
up  an  "iron  forge,"  and  in  1676  a  grant  of  land  was 
made  to  Colonel  Morris  to  encourage  the  erection  of  a 
"  smelting  furnace "  at  Shrewsbury,  which  went  into 
successful  operation  in  1680. 

The  early  iron-works  of  New  England  all  used  bog 
ore,  but  the  New  Jersey  enterprise  used  the  specular  or 
magnetic  ores  of  the  Orange  Mountains.  These  bold 
advances  of  the  colonies  in  so  important  an  industry  as 
the  manufacture  of  iron  could  scarcely  fail  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  mother  country,  and  consequently  we 
find,  near  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  com- 
plaints from  the  iron-masters  that  obstacles  were  thrown 
in  their  way,  such  as  restrictions  on  the  amount  of  iron 
made,  heavy  duties  on  iron  sold  in  other  colonies,  and 
at  last  a  special  tax  on  bar  iron  made  in  the  colonies, 
equal  to  the  freight  on  English  iron. 

This  policy  had,  to  some  extent,  the  desired  effect 
to  check  the  rapidly  developing  iron  industry  of  the 
colonies,  so  that  in  the  year  1 700  the  quantity  of  iron 


388  THE  MANUFACTURE   OF  IRON. 

made  in  New  England  was  not  equal  to  that  of  1675. 
But  the  depression  was  only  temporary.  The  earnest 
protest  of  the  General  Court  of  Massachusetts  procured 
a  repeal  or  modification  of  the  iron-tax,  and  the  inter- 
colonial duty  served  only  to  induce  the  erection  of  iron- 
works in  the  other  colonies. 

In  1714  the  iron  mines  of  Manatawny,  forty  miles  up 
the  Schuylkill,  were  opened  by  Thomas  Rutter,  Sen., 
who  is  now  generally  acknowledged  to  be  the  father  of 
the  iron  interest  in  Pennsylvania.  Rutter  at  first 
erected  a  bloomary  and  forge,  but  in  1 720  he  built  a 
blast  furnace.  Following  shortly  after  this  several 
furnaces  and  forges  were  erected  in  Chester  county,  and 
the  country  of  Newcastle  (Delaware),  which  then  be- 
longed to  Pennsylvania.  Gov.  Keith  erected  a  furnace 
on  Christina  creek,  in  this  county,  some  time  in  the 
period  of  his  administration,  which  was  from  1717  to 
1726. 

Alexander,  in  his  report  on  the  manufacture  of  iron, 
addressed  to  the  governor  of  Maryland,  gives  1715 
as  the  epoch  of  smelting  furnaces  in  Pennsylvania, 
Maryland  and  Virginia.  In  1718  Maryland  exported 
to  England  three  tons  and  seven  cwt.  of  bar  iron,  on 
which  the  mother  country  levied  a  duty  of  £6  195  id, 
or  nearly  thirty-five  dollars. 

Principio  furnace  and  Russel  forge  were  in  operation 
at  the  head  of  Chesapeake  Bay  in  1722.  These  were 
followed  in  a  few  years  by  similar  enterprises  on  Jones' 
Falls,  near  Baltimore,  in  Anne  Arundel,  Frederick,  and 
several  other  counties  in  Maryland. 

Col.  Spottswood  built  a  furnace  at  or  near  Freder- 
icksburg,  on  the  Rappahannock,  some  time  prior  to 
1722,  perhaps  in  1715.  This  appears  to  have  been  the 
first  attempt  to  revive  the  iron  interest  in  Virginia 


THE   MANUFACTURE   OF  IRON.  389 

after  the  disaster  of  the  Falling  Creek  iron-works  in 
1622.  Besides  his  smelting  furnace,  Col.  Spottswood 
had  a  foundry  at  Massapony,  where  were  cast  chimney 
backs,  andirons,  fenders,  plates  for  hearths,  pots,  skillets, 
mortars,  rollers  for  gardens,  boxes  for  cart  wheels,  etc., 
which,  "  one  with  another,  could  be  delivered  at  people's 
doors  at  twenty  shillings  a  ton." 

Between  1725  and  1750  several  bloom  forges  were 
erected  and  worked  with  profit  in  the  valley  of  Vir- 
ginia, and  in  1760  a  blast  furnace  was  erected  in  the 
same  region. 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  in  his  account  of  the  discoveries 
of  his  expedition  in  1585,  speaks  of  mines  of  iron  ore, 
which  he  locates  within  the  boundaries  of  the  present 
State  of  North  Carolina.  No  account,  however,  reaches 
us  of  any  attempt  to  utilize  these  early  discovered  ores 
till  about  the  year  1728.  In  that  year  Scrivenor  says 
there  was  exported  to  England  from  Carolina  an  in- 
voice of  iron  consisting  of  "  one  ton  and  one  cwt.  of 
cast  iron,  and  two  quarters  and  twelve  Ibs.  of  bar  iron." 
In  the  first  half  of  the  last  century  iron  furnaces  were 
in  operation  at  Deep  Run,  in  Guilford  county,  and  on 
Buffalo  creek,  in  Cleveland  county,  and  forges  and 
bloomaries  in  several  other  places,  but  I  find  it  im- 
possible to  fix  the  specific  dates. 

In  South  Carolina  iron  was  made  in  several  places 
prior  to  the  revolution  of  1776,  but  I  find  the  dates 
very  obscure.  The  manufacture  flourished  till  cotton 
became  king,  after  which  it  declined ;  and  though  the 
northwestern  counties  of  that  state  furnish  an  inex- 
haustible supply  of  magnetic  ore  of  the  best  quality, 
yet  there  is  now  neither  furnace,  forge,  nor  rolling  mill 
in  South  Carolina. 

The    iron   interest   in    the   New   England    colonies, 


390 


THE  MANUFACTURE   OF  IRON. 


early  in  the  last  century,  began  to  recover  from  the 
depression  which  marked  the  close  of  the  preceding 
century.  In  Massachusetts  the  iron  manufacture  ex- 
tended itself  westward-  into  the  region  of  the  rich  hema- 
tite ores  of  Berkshire  county.  In  1750  there  were  re- 
ported in  operation  six  furnaces  and  nineteen  forges 
for  bar  iron,  four  slitting  mills  and  one  steel  furnace. 
Connecticut  also  made  rapid  progress  in  iron  manufac- 
ture prior  to  the  revolution.  In  1732  a  furnace  was 
built  at  Lime  Rock,  which  worked  the  now  celebrated 
brown  hematite  ores  of  Litchfield,  and  another  one  was 
erected  in  1762,  which  cast  cannon  and  shot  in  large 
quantities  during  the  revolution.  Several  bloomaries 
were  operated  in  New  Hampshire  as  early  as  1750, 
but  I  find  no  mention  of  blast  furnaces  prior  to  the 
revolution. 

Governor  Cosby,  in  his  report  to  Parliament  in  1 734, 
says  that  "  though  iron  ore  is  plenty,  no  iron-work,  as 
yet,  is  set  up  in  this  province"  (New  York),  but  in 
1740  we  find  that  Philip  Livingston  "set  up"  a  bloom- 
ary  in  Colombia  county,  New  York,  but  a  few  miles 
from  the  Litchfield  mines  in  Connecticut. 

This  pre-revolutionary  development  of  the  iron  in- 
terest in  the  colonies,  without  a  doubt  bore  an  impor- 
tant part  in  the  final  determination  of  that  momentous 
struggle.  If  the  colonies  had  been  dependent  on  the 
mother  country  for  the  iron  and  steel  that  are  so  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  everyday  life  of  a  civilized 
people,  and  especially  if  we  had  depended  on  a  foreign 
nation  for  artillery,  so  indispensable  in  modern  warfare, 
the  result  might  have  been  very  different. 


THE   GRIZZLT  BEAR.  391 


THE    GRIZZLY   BEAR. 

HE  home  of  the  grizzly  bear  is  in  the  caves  and 
silent  retreats  of  the  mountains  lying  west  of  the 
Missouri  river,  across  Upper  California.  This 

animal  to  America  is  what  the  Bengal  tiger  is  to 
Hindostan,  and  the  lion  to  Central  Africa.  It  is  the 
most  ferocious  and  powerful  of  its  family,  and  dreaded 
by  the  hunter  more  than  any  other  beast  with  which 
he  comes  in  contact.  The  Indian  fears  it  so  much  that 
a  victory  over  the  monster  is  an  achievement  which 
places  the  brave  in  an  enviable  position  among  his  clan. 
When  one  is  slain  by  the  red  man  a  necklace  is  made 
of  the  long  claws  and  worn  about  the  neck  as  a  signet 
of  valor,  and  this  entitles  him  to  the  highest  position 
of  honor  among  his  people  wherever  he  may  meet 
them. 

There  is  a  story  told  of  an  Indian's  reproof  to  the 
fierce  animal  for  what  he  considered  a  weakness.  Hav- 
ing, by  a  lucky  shot,  broken  the  backbone  of  a  grizzly, 
it  set  up  a  most  plaintive  cry.  The  hunter,  instead  of 
giving  another  shot,  stood  up  close  to  him,  and  ad- 
dressed him  in  these  words : 

"  Harkee,  bear  !  you  are  a  coward,  and  no  warrior, 
as  you  pretend  to  be.  Were  you  a  warrior,  you  would 
show  it  by  your  firmness,  and  not  cry  and  whimper  like 
an  old  woman.  You  .know,  bear,  that  our  tribes  are  at 
war  with  each  other,  and  that  yours  was  the  aggressor. 
You  have  found  the  Indians  too  powerful  for  you. 
Had  you  conquered  me,  I  would  have  borne  it  with 
courage,  and  died  like  a  brave  warrior.  But  you,  bear, 
sit  here  and  disgrace  your  tribe  by  your  mean  conduct." 


39  2  THE   GRIZZLT  BEAR. 

There  is  another  tale  told  at  the  camp-fires  of  a 
hunter,  long  ago,  who  was  driven  by  a  storm  into  a 
cavern  on  one  of  the  tributaries  to  the  "  Big  Muddy," 
and,  too  late  to  retreat,  found  himself  in  the  presence 
of  the  huge  bear.  All  he  could  do  was  to  fight  for  his 
life,  and  this  he  did  right  valiantly  with  his  long  knife. 

The  contest  was  desperate,  but  finally  the  herculean 
hunter  succeeded  in  giving  a  death-stroke  to  his  con- 
testant, but  it  was  the  finishing  effort,  for  the  man  fell 
beside  the  expiring  enemy  exhausted  and  bleeding  from 
the  wounds  that  he  had  received,  besides  having  an  arm 
and  leg  broken. 

In  a  semi-conscious  condition  he  lay  for  several 
hours,  and  when  he  recovered  mental  action,  found 
himself  so  stiffened  and  sore  that  he  was  unable  to 
move  from  the  spot  where  he  had  fallen.  For  two 
days  he  subsisted  on  the  meat  of  the  bear,  but  there 
was  no  means  in  the  cavern  for  quenching  his  thirst, 
which  at  that  time  had  become  so  intense  that  the 
wounded,  stiffened  hunter  became  almost  frantic. 

By  slow,  painful  movements  he  drew  his  body  along 
upon  the  earth,  and  after  a  protracted  struggle  reached 
the  river's  margin  and  quenched  his  thirst.  This  gave 
him  strength,  but  he  did  not  dare  an  attempt  to  return 
to  the  cavern,  so  he  hauled  himself,  with  a  snail-like  mo- 
tion, along  the  sands  of  the  river,  gathering  small  fishes, 
clams,  and  whatever  else  he  could  get  hold  of  in  the 
way  of  food. 

Not  half  the  required  nourishment  could  be  obtained 
in  this  way,  and  his  strength  again  leaving  him,  he  laid 
himself  down  to  die  of  starvation  in  the  wilderness. 
While  lying  thus  a  deer  came  rushing  down  the  valley, 
pursued  by  a  wolf,  and  the  famishing  hunter  was  grati- 
fied to  see  the  timid  animal  slain  by  the  fierce  enemy. 


HOME   OF  THE   GRIZZLY   BEAR. 


394 


THE    GRIZZLT  BEAR. 


After  the  wolf  had  satisfied  its  hunger,  the  now  hope- 
ful man  again  crept  forward,  and  succeeded  in  gaining 
the  coveted  spot,  thus  once  again  satisfying  the  gnaw- 
ings  of  his  appetite.  His  strength  was  revived  and  his 
spirits  buoyed  up. 

Casting  about  him,  he  saw  a  portion  of  the  trunk  of 
a  tree  not  far  away,  and  the  idea  at  once  occurrtid  to  him 
of  rolling  this  into  the  stream  and  using  it  as  a  float  to 
carry  him  down  the  river. 

After  the  labor  of  a  day,  lying  upon  the  earth,  and 
with  only  one  hand  to  use,  he  succeeded  in  getting  the 
tree-trunk  into  the  water  and  crawling  upon  it.  The 
current  carried  him  on  to  the  Missouri,  and  then  he 
floated  down  the  broad  water-course  until  opposite 
Council  Bluffs,  where  he  was  rescued  in  a  most  pitiable 
condition. 

Something  of  the  wonderful  strength  of  the  grizzly 
bear  may  be  estimated  from  the  fact  that  it  is  able  to 
drag  away  the  body  of  a  buffalo,  and  to  dig  a  pit  and 
bury  it ;  and  something  of  its  tenacity,  from  the  ac- 
count given  of  Governor  Clarke's  party,  who  shot  one 
with  ten  large  balls,  four  of  which  passed  through  the 
lungs  and  two  through  the  head,  and  the  animal  thus 
wounded  survived  twenty  minutes,  swimming  half  a  mile 
in  that  time. 

A  few  weeks  ago  Dr.  Swain,  of  Sacramento,  went  on 
a  hunting  expedition  to  a  point  about  qne  hundred 
miles  from  there,  in  the  eastern  part  of  Monterey  county. 
In  the  company  was  an  old  mountaineer  called  "  Rocky," 
who  had  become  famous  as  a  bear  hunter.  One  morn- 
ing Rocky  started  out  of  camp  and  was  laboriously  toil- 
ing along  a  narrow  trail  on  the  side  of  a  deep  canyon. 
When  in  a  wild  portion  of  the  mountains,  he  saw  on  the 
other  side  of  the  canyon  two  young  grizzlies  playing  on 


THE   GRIZZLT  BEAR. 


395 


a  grassy  beach  of  land.  Immediately  his  splendid  re- 
volving rifle  was  at  his  shoulder,  and  he  fired.  One  cub 
he  killed  instantly,  but  the  other  lived  long  enough  to 
cry  almost  like  a  child  for  the  mother  bear.  Soon  a 
crackling  of  bushes  was  heard  behind,  and  Rocky  turned 
just  in  time  to  see  the  mother,  enraged  and  excited, 
almost  upon  the  slayer  of  her  offspring.  The  bold  hunter 
again  raised  his  rifle,  but  before  he  could  use  it  the  bear, 
by  one  stroke  of  her  powerful  paw,  hurled  it  far  out  of 
his  reach.  A  hand-to-hand  encounter  was  now  the  only 
way  out  of  the  difficulty,  and  Rocky  drew  his  huge  knife. 
He  raised  it,  and  swiftly  it  descended,  gleaming  through 
the  air  into  the  heart  of  the  bear,  and  none  too  soon,  for 
as  he  struck,  the  bear  also  dealt  him  a  powerful  blow  on 
his  side,  which  stretched  him  insensible  some  distance 
from  the  scene  of  the  encounter,  the  knife  remaining 
buried  to  the  hilt  in  the  bear's  shaggy  side.  After  a 
time  the  hunter  recovered  sufficiently  to  drag  himself  to 
camp,  where  he  was  obliged  to  remain  for  several  days 
before  he  recovered  from  the  terrible  blow  he  had  re- 
ceived. Other  members  of  the  party  went  to  the  place 
and  found  the  cubs  dead,  and  a  short  distance  from  them 
the  old  bear,  also  dead.  The  gun  and  knife  were  recov- 
ered, and  for  several  days  bear  steaks  were  the  bill  of  fare 
in  that  camp.  Dr.  Swain  says  the  meat  of  the  cubs  was 
delicious — fat  and  tender.  There  are  many  grizzlies  in 
that  section,  and  only  the' most  experienced  hunters,  like 
Rocky,  have  any  business  hunting  them.  There  is  prob- 
ably no  animal  in  the  world  more  dangerous  or  difficult 
to  kill  than  the  grizzly  bear  of  California. 


396 


HORSE-POWER. 


HORSE-POWER. 


•HEN  steam  engines  were  first  introduced,  they 
were  largely  used  to  take  the  place  of  horses  be- 
fore employed  for  raising  water  from  mines. 
Naturally,  people  asked,  when  buying  an  engine, 
how  much  work  would  it  do,  that  is,  how  many 
horses  did  it  represent.  The  early  engine  builders 
found  themselves  greatly  at  a  loss  when  this  question 
was  first  asked.  They  had  at  once,  therefore,  to  de- 
termine how  many  horses  an  engine  was  equal  to. 

The  first  thing  was  to  find  out  how  much  a  horse 
could  do.  The  strongest  English  horses,  the  London 
brewers'  horse,  were  far  above  the  very  best  that  could 
be  found  elsewhere.  They  were  found  to  be  able  to 
travel  at  the  rate  of  two  and  one-half  miles  per  hour, 
and  work  eight  hours  per  day.  The  load  was  pulling  a 
one  hundred-pound  weight  out  of  a  shaft  by  means  of  a 
rope.  When  a  horse  moves  two  and  one-half  miles  per 
hour,  he  travels  two  hundred  and  twenty  feet  per  min- 
ute, and  of  course  at  this  speed  the  one  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  would  be  raised  vertically  that  distance. 
That  is  equal  to  three  hundred  pounds  lifted  one  hun- 
dred and  ten  feet  per  minute,  or  three  thousand  pounds 
eleven  feet,  or  thirty-three  thousand  pounds  one  foot 
high,  in  one  minute.  The  thirty-three  thousand  pounds 
lifted  one  foot  high  every  minute  is  taken  as  a  standard 
horse-power.  It  is  much  more  than  any  ordinary  horse 
can  do,  and,  therefore,  the  engine  builders  were  always 
sure  that  their  engines  would  take  the  place  of  as  many 
horses  as  the  horse-power  would  indicate  that  they 
would. 


HORSE-PO  WER.  39  7 

Of  course  thirty-three  thousand  pounds  lifted  one 
foot  per  minute  is  much  more  convenient  for  calculation 
than  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  two  hundred  feet, 
and  therefore  the  former  form  has  been  adopted ;  the 
amount  of  work,  or  number  of  foot  pounds,  however, 
is  just  the  same  in  either  case.  A  foot  pound  repre- 
sents the  amount  of  power  required  to  lift  one  pound 
one  foot  high.  It  is  comparatively  easy  to  estimate  the 
horse-power  of  an  engine  with  a  reasonable  degree  of 
accuracy,  provided  we  know  certain  things  in  regard  to 
it.  We  must  know  the  pressure  in  the  boiler,  the 
diameter  of  the  cylinder,  the  length  of  stroke,  the  num- 
ber of  revolutions  per  minute  which  the  engine  is  mak- 
ing, and  lastly,  the  point  at  which  steam  is  cut  off. 

When  there  is  no  cut  off,  steam  is  admitted  into  the 
cylinder  during  the  whole  stroke,  and  a  cylinderful  of 
steam  at  boiler  pressure  is  used  at  each  stroke,  as  the 
cut-off,  when  there  is  one,  takes  place  before  the  piston 
has  reached  the  end  of  the  cylinder.  If  steam  is  pre- 
vented from  entering  the  cylinder  after  the  piston  has 
passed  mid-stroke,  this  point  of  cut-off  is  at  half-stroke. 
If  the  steam  enters  the  cylinder  during  three-quarters 
of  the  stroke,  and  is  then  arrested,  the  point  of  cutting 
off  is  at  three-quarters  of  the  stroke.  It  is  necessary  to 
know  the  point  of  cutting  off,  in  order  to  find  out  what 
the  average  pressure  is  in  the  cylinder.  In  the  com- 
moner sort  of  engines,  not  provided  with  independent 
cut-off  valves,  the  point  of  cutting  off  may  usually  be 
taken  at  from  one-half  to  three-quarters  of  the  stroke, 
though  sometimes  more  than  this.  It  may,  perhaps,  be 
safe  to  take  the  average  pressure  in  the  cylinder  at 
about  eight-tenths  of  that  in  the  boiler ;  though  where 
the  steam-pipe  is  long  and  the  throttle-valve  used  to 
control  the  speed,  the  average  pressure  in  the  cylinder 


398 


COLORING  MATTERS. 


may  be  no  more  than  three-quarters  of  that  in  the 
boiler. 

The  power  will  be  the  distance  which  the  piston, 
under  this  pressure,  travels  during  one  minute.  There- 
fore we  have  the  rule  :.  Multiply  the  area  of  the  piston 
by  the  average  pressure  per  square  inch  upon  the  pis- 
ton ;  multiply  this  result  by  the  distance  which  the 
piston  travels  per  minute  in  feet,  and  the  result  is  the 
number  of  foot  pounds  per  minute  which  that  engine 
can  raise. 

Divide  by  33,000,  and  the  result  is  the  number  of 
horse-power.  The  number  of  feet  per  minute  traveled 
by  the  piston  is  twice  the  number  of  strokes  per  minute 
multiplied  by  the  length  of  stroke.  This  gives  the 
number  of  horse-power  sufficiently  near  for  all  practical 
purposes. 


COLORING   MATTERS. 

HE  coloring  matters  used  in  dyeing  are  derived 
from  many  sources.  Some  occur  in  the  roots, 
others  in  the  bark  or  stems,  and  still  others  are 
found  in  the  seed  and  flowers  of  the  plant  from 
which  they  are  extracted.  These  coloring  matters 
are  taken  from  the  plant  after  its  power  of  subsisting 
in  life  has  ceased. 

The  dyes  used  to  give  a  red  color  are  taken  from 
the  cochineal  insect,  safflower  (earthamus),  Brazil- 
wood, madder,  etc.  Blue  colors  are  obtained  from  in- 
digo, litmus,  etc.,  and  yellow  dyes  from  saffron,  turmeric 
and  fustic. 


COLORING  MATTERS.  399 

Of  the  agents  named,  as  used  in  dyeing  red,  madder 
is  the  chief.  It  ts  the  root  of  a  plant  found  in  some 
parts  of  France,  principally  the  south.  It  is  also  culti- 
vated to  some  extent  by  the  Turks.  The  plant  con- 
tains a  number  of  principles  known  as  alarin,  pur- 
purine,  xanthine,  etc.  The  most  important  of  them  is 
alizarin,  to  which  the  coloring  power  of  madder  is  due. 

Cochineal  is  a  dried  insect,  which  feeds,  when  alive, 
on  the  cactus,  a  tropical  plant,  to  which  its  coloring 
power  is  due.  The  latter  forms  a  rich  red  color, 
known  as  carmine.  It  is  chiefly  used  in  dyeing  silks. 
The  manner  of  obtaining  the  dye  from  the  cactus  may 
be  briefly  described  as  follows  :  It  is  first  steeped  in 
a  solution  of  soda  (cold)  for  some  time,  when  cotton 
wool  is  introduced  as  an  absorbent  of  the  color.  A 
solution  of  lemon  juice  is  then  added  to  cleanse  the 
wool  of  all  impurities.  The  whole  process  is  repeated 
until  the  wool  is  full  of  color.  Another  lot  is  then 
introduced.  The  color  is  removed  from  the  wool  by 
immersing  it  in  hot  carbonate  of  soda. 

But  all  of  these  colors  are  volatile  and  fleeting,  and 
require  a  mordant  to  fix  them  permanently  in  the 
material  to  be  dyed.  Its  action  may  be  understood 
from  the  following  experiment : 

In  a  solution  of  sulphate  of  iron  soak  a  piece  of 
cotton,  then  place  in  an  infusion  of  logwood,  and  the 
cotton  will  acquire  a  permanent  black  color. 

In  this  case  the  iron  is  the  mordant  employed,  and 
its  usefulness  may  be  seen  from  the  fact  that  were  the 
cotton  to  be  placed  in  the  logwood  only,  it  would  be 
a  dirty  brown  color.  The  mordants  used  in  dyeing 
are  salts  of  iron,  tin,  alumina  and  chromium.  An 
acetate  of  iron  is  also  largely  used.  It  is  prepared  by 
dissolving  scraps  of  iron  in  pyroligneous  acid. 


400  THE   JELLT-FISH. 


THE   JELLY-FISH. 

;HILE  the  world  above  the  great  waters  of  the 
oceans  is  so  full  of  curious  and  interesting  living 
things  as  to  keep  mankind  constantly  studying 
to  understand  them,  yet  wonders  beneath  the 
briny  billows  are  no  less  numerous,  curious  and 
interesting.  The  sea  is  as  full  of  life  as  the  earth 
and  air;  living  creatures  are  there  of  all  sizes,  from 
monstrosities  to  minute  insects  which  cannot  be  de- 
tected with  the  naked  eye.  Some  of  them  have  the 
most  unsightly  and  ugly  forms,  while  others  are  charm- 
ingly beautiful,  variegated  with  all  colors  and  tints  of 
colors.  Among  the  most  interesting  of  these  is  the 
acaleph  family,  or  jelly-fishes,  of  which  there  are  nu- 
merous species,  but  from  some  instinctive  knowledge, 
each  particular  species  keep  separated  from  those  un- 
like themselves,  and  yet  millions  upon  millions  of  a 
kind  are  found  together.  One  scientific  writer  says 
that  off  the  coast  of  Chili  they  not  only  crowd  the  sur- 
face of  the  sea  for  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  Eng- 
lish square  miles,  but  the  water  is  full  of  them  to  the 
depth  of  six  feet  from  the  surface. 

In  an  account  of  the  voyage  of  a  steamship,  named 
the  Crocodile,  occurs  the  following  strange  statement : 
"On  September  21  the  ship  crossed  the  equator  early 
in  the  morning.  On  the  following  night  a  most  curious 
circumstance,  occurred  which  would  hardly  be  credited. 
The  ship  was  stopped  by  jelly-fish,  which,  shortly  after 
one  o'clock,  appeared  in  myriads  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  and  the  thousands  of  luminous  bodies  floating 
upon  the  water  gave  the  appearance  of  a  scene  from 


THE  JELLY-FISH. 


26 


. 


402  THE   JELLY-FISH. 

fairyland.  Some  of  the  fish  got  into  the  strainers  of 
the  condensers  and  blocked  the  holes  so  that  the  water 
could  not  enter,  and  the  result  was  that  the  vacuum 
went  down  and  then  disappeared  entirely.  The  con- 
densers afterward  became  so  heated  that  we  had  to 
stop  steaming  altogether,  take  off  the  strainers,  and 
clear  them.  Three  attempts  were  made  to  steam,  and 
each  failed  from  the  same  cause.  In  this  way  we  were 
delayed  no  less  than  five  hours ;  but  at  daybreak  the 
fish  sank,  and  the  ship  was  able  to  proceed.  The  same 
thing  occurred  again  on  the  following  night,  the  ship 
being  delayed  four  hours." 

It  is  only  in  very  calm  weather,  however,  that  they 
come  to  the  upper  surface  of  the  sea  in  such  numbers. 
The)r  are  very  delicate  creatures,  and  cannot  stand 
usage  of  the  dashing,  tumbling  waves.  When  it  be- 
comes rough  they  quickly  descend  to  the  quiet  ocean 
depths.  This  they  do  by  letting  the  umbrella  or  mush- 
room-like top  of  their  body  fall  down  the  sides  of  their 
tentacles,  in  the  manner  of  the  one  shown  near  the  bot- 
tom of  our  engraving.  The  tentacles  are  the  arms  of 
the  creature,  and  are  used  as  people  use  theirs,  to  con- 
vey food  to  their  mouths,  said  mouths  being  situated 
underside  of  the  body.  The  stomach  is  under  the 
umbrella-like  top.  In  one  species,  however,  there  is 
no  mouth,  the  nourishment  being  absorbed  through 
the  branching  vessels.  The  eyes  are  numerous,  and 
located  around  the  rim  of  the  bowing  top. 

The  jelly-fishes  are  sometimes  called  sea-nettles, 
because  when  they  come  in  contact  with  human  flesh 
they  leave  an  acute,  stinging  pain,  similar  to  that  ex- 
perienced when  stung  by  nettles,  only  sharper,  and 
with  more  of  a  tingling  sensation.  The  disagreeable 
feeling  increases  until  the  whole  nervous  system  is 


THE   JELLY-FISH.  403 

affected,  causing,  sometimes,  a  pain  to  dart  through 
the  body  as  if  a  rifle-ball  had  passed  there.  The  heart 
and  lungs  suffer  also ;  indeed,  the  victim  feels  strange 
all  over,  and,  if  it  is  his  first  experience,  becomes  greatly 
alarmed,  sometimes  believing  he  is  going  to  die.  Often 
the  uncomfortable  condition  lasts  for  several  days. 
People  bathing  in  the  sea  who  have  met  the  nettle-fish 
once  are  pretty  careful  not  to  come  in  contact  with  it 
again. 

Another  name  which  jelly-fishes  bear,  and  very 
appropriately  too,  is  that  of  sea-lanterns.  They  are 
called  thus  from  their  power  to  emit  a  light  which 
looks  beautiful  in  the  night,  and  always  attracts  the 
attention  of  mariners  when  they  come  upon  the  shining 
objects. 

The  phosphorescent  lights  deck  the  broad  expanse 
of  the  ocean  sometimes  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach. 
In  the  sunlight,  also,  these  fish  reflect  colors  bearing 
all  the  tints  and  shades  of  the  rainbow,  but  the  scene 
is  not  so  grand  and  imposing  as  when  viewed  in  the 
darkness  and  stillness  of  the  night. 

Many  a  person  has  stood  almost  entranced  watching 
the  silent  waters  shining  with  jelly-fishes,  and  looking, 
in  contrast  with  the  surrounding  gloom,  as  if  they  were 
studded  with  the  most  precious  gems.  Many,  too,  have 
stood  enraptured  at  mid-day,  watching  the  wonderful 
acalephcz  pressing  in  shoals  through  the  clear  water, 
pulsating  as  if  the  whole  being  were  but  a  translucent 
heart  trailing  behind  them  their  delicate  fringes  of 
waving  cilia  and  rolling  gently  over  as  if  in  excess 
of  happiness. 

Everything  above,  around  and  beneath,  when  we 
contemplate  the  wonderful  beauty -and  perfection  of 
creation,  tells  unmistakably  of  an  omnipotent  hand, 


404  THE   CLOCK   OF   CLOCKS. 

and  gives,  outside  of  the  light  of  revelation,  proofs  that 
are  sufficient  to  convince  any  reasonable,  rational  mind 
of  a  living  overruling  power. 


THE  CLOCK  OF  CLOCKS. 

N  Reading,  Pennsylvania,  there  was  lately  ex- 
hibited the  most  wonderful  clock  in  the  world. 
It  was  built  by  Stephen  D.  Engle,  a  watchmaker, 
at  Hazleton,  Pa.  He  is  about  forty-five  years  of 
age,  and  was  twenty  years  in  perfecting  the  clock. 
Engle  never  saw  the  Strasburg  clock.  In  fact  he 
has  not  traveled  more  than  two  hundred  miles  from 
home  at  any  time.  This  clock  stands  eleven  feet  high. 
At  its  base  it  is  about  four  feet  wide,  and  at  the  top 
about  two.  It  is  about  three  feet  deep  at  the  base, 
gradually  less  toward  the  top.  Its  colors  are  brown 
and  gold.  The  Strasburg  clock  is  thirty  feet  high,  yet 
its  mechanism  is  not  so  intricate,  nor  has  it  as  many  fig- 
ures, as  the  Hazleton  clock.  The  Strasburg  clock's 
figures  are  about  three  feet  high,  and  the  American 
clock  about  nine  inches.  Three  minutes  before  the  hour 
a  pipe  organ  inside  the  clock  plays  an  anthem.  It  has 
five  tunes.  Bells  are  then  rung,  and  when  the  hour  is 
struck  double-doors  in  an  alcove  open  and  a  figure  of 
Jesus  appears.  Double-doors  to  the  left  then  open  and 
the  apostles  appear  slowly,  one  by  one,  in  procession. 
As  they  appear  and  pass  Jesus  they  turn  toward  him. 
Jesus  bows  ;  the  apostles  turn  again  and  proceed  through 
the  double-doors  in  an  alcove  on  the  right.  As  Peter 


THE   CLOCK  OF  CLOCKS.  ^Or 

approaches,  Satan  looks  out  of  a  window  above  and 
tempts  him.  Five  times  the  devil  appears ;  and  when 
Peter  passes,  denying  Christ,  the  cock  flaps  its  wings 
and  crows.  When  Judas  appears,  Satan  comes  down 
from  his  window  and  follows  Judas  out  in  the  procession, 
and  then  goes  back  up  to  his  place  to  watch  Judas,  ap- 
pearing on  both  sides.  As  the  procession  has  passed, 
Judas  and  the  three  Marys  disappear,  and  the  doors  are 
closed.  The  scene  can  be  repeated  seven  times  in  an 
hour,  if  necessary,  and  the  natural  motion  of  the  clock 
produces  it  four  times  an  hour ;  whereas  the  Stras- 
burg  procession  is  made  but  once  a  day,  at  twelve 
o'clock.  Below  the  plaza  is  the  main  dial,  about  thirteen 
inches  in  diameter.  To  its  right  is  a  figure  of  Time 
with  an  hour-glass.  Above  this  is  a  window,  at  which 
appear  figures  representing  Youth,  Manhood  and  Old 
Age.  To  the  left  of  the  dial  is  a  skeleton  representing 
Death.  When  the  hour-hand  approaches  the  first  quar- 
ter, Time  reverses  his  hour-glass  and  strikes  one  on  a 
bell  with  his  scythe,  when  another  bell  inside  responds  ; 
then  Childhood  appears  instantly.  When  the  hour- 
hand  approaches  to  the  second  quarter,  or  half  hour, 
there  are  heard  the  strokes  of  two  bells.  Then  Youth 
appears,  and  the  organ  plays  a  hymn.  After  this  Time 
strikes  two  and  reverses  his  hour-glass,  when  two  bells 
respond  inside.  One  minute  after  this  a  chime  of  bells 
is  heard,  when  a  folding-door  opens  in  the  upper  porch, 
and  one  at  the  right  of  the  court,  when  the  Saviour 
comes  walking  out.  Then  the  apostles  appear  in  pro- 
cession. The  clock  also  tells  of  the  moon's  changes, 
the  tides,  the  seasons,  day,  and  day  of  the  month  and 
year,  and  the  signs  of  the  zodiac  ;  and  on  top  a  soldier 
is  constantly  on  guard,  walking  backward  and  forward. 
As  the  hours  advance  Manhood,  Old  Age  and  Death 
take  part  in  the  panorama. 


4o6  MANUFACTURE   OF  OIL-CLOTH, 


THE  MANUFACTURE  OF  OIL-CLOTH. 

HE    cloth    or   canvas    used    in    the    manufacture 
...__  ^    of  oil-cloth  is  a  very  strong  fabric,  made  of  flax 

f^H*  and  hemp,  painted  on  both  sides;  the  under 
^  side  being  plain,  the  upper  side  ornamented  with 
patterns  or  designs  of  two  or  more  colors.  The 
cloth  used  for  this  purpose  should  be  without  seam, 
so  that  when  pieces  of  great  width  are  required,  two 
men  are  employed  at  the  loom,  one  on  each  side,  for 
throwing  the  shuttle  back  and  forth.  This  kind  of 
cloth  being  woven  for  this  purpose  alone,  its  manu- 
facture forms  a  distinct  branch  of  business.  Pieces 
are  made  from  eighteen  to  twenty-four  feet  wide,  and 
the  length  often  exceeds  one  hundred  yards. 

When  the  canvas  is  received  at  the  manufactory 
the  bales,  containing  one  hundred  or  more  yards,  and 
weighing  nearly  six  hundred  pounds,  are  opened  and 
cut  in  pieces  of  sixty  or  one.  hundred  feet,  as  may  be 
required.  These  pieces  are  then  taken  to  the  "  frame 
room,"  which  consists  of  a  number  of  strong  wooden 
frames,  standing  upright,  a  few  feet  from  each  other. 
The  space  between  the  frames  is  occupied  by  a  scaf- 
fold of  four  tiers,  which  may  be  reached  by  means  of 
a  ladder  at  one  end  of  each  frame.  The  edges  and 
ends  of  the  canvas  are  fastened  to  the  frame,  and  by 
means  of  screws  the  beams  of  the  frame  are  moved  so 
as  to  tighten  and  stretch  it  to  its  utmost  tension.  In 
this  position  every  part  of  the  cloth  can  be  reached 
from  the  several  platforms.  The  first  operation,  prepar- 
atory to  painting,  is  covering  the  back  of  the  canvas 
with  a  weak  solution  of  size,  applied  with  a  brush  ;  and, 


MANUFACTURE   OF  OIL-CLOTH. 


407 


while  yet  damp,  the  canvas  is  thoroughly  rubbed  with 
pumice-stone.  By  this  means  the  irregularities  of  the 
surface  are  removed,  and  the  size  penetrates  the  inter- 
stices of  the  cloth,  so  preventing  the  paint,  which  is 
afterward  applied,  from  penetrating  too  far,  which 
would  render  the  oil-cloth  hard  and  brittle.  This 
priming  and  scouring  are  carried  on  from  the  top 
downward. 

When  the  surface  is  dry,  a  coat  of  paint,  made  of 
linseed  oil  and  some  cheap  coloring  matter,  is  applied. 
This  paint  is  very  thick  and  is  thrown  on  the  canvas 
in  dabs  with  a  short  brush  ;  it  is  then  spread  with  a 
long  and  very  elastic  steel  trowel.  The  paint  is  thus 
thoroughly  worked  into  the  web  of  the  cloth,  filling  up 
all  inequalities  and  rendering  the  surface  smooth  and 
level.  The  "  trowel-color,"  as  it  is  called,  is  allowed  to 
dry  ten  days  or  longer,  according  to  the  weather,  after 
which  a  second  coat  is  smoothly  laid  on  with  the  trowel, 
which  completes  the  work  for  the  under  side  of  the 
canvas.  After  the  first  coat  of  paint  is  applied  to  the 
under  side,  the  same  process  is  commenced  on  the  face 
side  of  the  cloth  ;  the  size  is  applied,  then  rubbed  in 
with  pumice-stone  ;  the  first  trowel  color  is  then  on, 
which,  when .  dry,  is  also  rubbed  down  with  pumice- 
stone  ;  two  more  coats  are  applied  with  a  trowel,  with 
a  pumice-stone  rubbing  after  each.  Finally,  a  fourth 
coating  of  paint  is  applied  with  the  brush,  which  is  the 
ground  color  for  the  designs  which  are  to  be  printed 
on  it.  The  floor-cloth  is  thus  completed,  the  various 
occupations  taking  from  two  to  three  months,  when 
it  is  ready  to  be  removed  from  the  frames  and  trans- 
ferred to  the  printing  rooms. 

The  printing  of  the  cloth  is  done  on  a  flat  table, 
over  which  it  is  drawn  as  fast  as  the  designs  are  im- 


408  MANUFACTURE   OF  OIL-CLOTH. 

pressed.  This  is  done  with  wooden  blocks,  not  unlike 
those  used  in  the  old  method  of  calico-printing.  As 
the  patterns  generally  consist  of  several  colors,  there 
are  as  many  blocks  and  as  many  separate  printings 
as  there  are  colors  in  the  designs. 

In  preparing  a  set  of  blocks  for  printing  oil-cloths, 
an  accurate  colored  sketch  of  the  design  is  first  made 
on  stout  paper.  A  blank  sheet  of  paper  is  then  placed 
under  this,  and  by  means  of  a  sharp  point,  all  that 
portion  of  the  device  including  one  color  is  marked 
on  the  under  sheet  in  a  series  of  dots  or  holes.  This 
being  removed,  another  blank  sheet  is  placed  under 
the  pattern,  and  all  the  figures  of  another  color  are 
pricked  out  in  a  similar  manner.  -Thus  the  pattern 
is  dissected  on  as  many  sheets  of  paper  as  there  are 
colors  to  be  printed.  One  of  the  pricked  sheets  is  then 
fixed  on  the  surface  of  a  block,  and  a  little  powdered 
charcoal  is  then  dusted  over  it  from  a  muslin  bag,  so 
as  to  penetrate  the  hole.  The  dotted  line  thus  made 
on  the  block  serves  to  guide  the  pencil  of  the  engraver 
when  the  paper  is  removed,  and  enables  him  to  draw 
the  portion  of  the  pattern  required  for  that  block.  The 
same  plan  is  pursued  with  other  blocks,  which  are  then 
ready  for  the  engraver,  who  cuts  away  the  wood,  and 
leaves  the  pattern  in  relief. 

The  blocks  used  for  printing  are  generally  about 
eighteen  inches  square,  the  engraved  portion  being 
made  of  some  close-grained  wood,  such  as  the  pear 
tree,  and  fastened  to  blocks  of  pine.  These  engraved 
blocks,  in  large  establishments,  constitute  a  very 
valuable  portion  of  the  stock.  Before  the  designs  are 
impressed  on  the  cloth,  it  is  made  slightly  rough  by 
means  of  a  steel  scraper  and  a  scrubbing  brush,  which 
prepare  it  to  receive  the  colors  more  readily.  Near 


MANUFACTURE   OF  OIL-CLOTH 


409 


the  printing  table  is  placed  a  number  of  flat  cushions, 
on  which  the  coloring  matter  is  first  placed  with  a 
brush.  The  printer  presses  the  block  on  the  cushion, 
which  is  charged  with  the  color,  and  then  applies  it 
to  the  cloth,  holding  it  firmly,  at  the  same  time  striking 
it  several  blows  with  the  handle  of  a  heavy  hammer. 
A  second  printer  charges  his  block  with  a  different 
color,  and  applies  it  in  the  same  manner.  He  is  fol- 
lowed by  a  third,  and  as  many  others  as  may  be  required 
to  form  the  most  variously-colored  pattern.  As  fast 
as  the  cloth  is  printed  it  passes  through  an  opening 
in  the  floor  to  the  drying  room,  where  it  becomes  hard 
and  ready  for  use.  Narrow  pieces,  for  halls  and  stairs, 
are  first  cut  the  required  width,  and  printed  in  the  same 
manner,  except  that  a  space  is  left  on  each  side  for  a 
border,  which,  requiring  smaller  blocks,  is  put  on  after- 
ward. Sometimes  drying  oils  are  used  to  hasten  the 
completion  of  the  work ;  but  this  makes  the  cloth 
brittle,  and  of  inferior  quality. 

There  are  various  large  manufactories  of  oil-cloths 
in  the  United  States,  and  the  value  of  their  production 
is  about  two  and  a  half  million  dollars  yearly.  A  still 
cheaper  floor  covering  is  made  of  stout,  strong  paper, 
painted  in  colors,  but  it  has  not  yet  attained  an  extent 
which  enables  it  to  be  called  a  "  great  industry." 


THE   CHIMPANZEE. 


THE    CHIMPANZEE. 

"*§4LX3^S*t 

T  is  supposed  that  Dr.  Livingstonehas  made  the 
world  acquainted  with  a  "  new  chimpanzee,"  — a 
^.----  species  of  ape  hitherto  entirely  unknown.  The 
f  natives  call  these  creatures  "  men,"  and  unfortunately 
they  look  just  enough  like  men  to  be  criticised  by 

the  standard  of  human  beauty,  and  so  to  appear  very 
disgusting.  They  go  in  squads  of  ten,  more  or  less, 
each  male  with  his  wife.  They  have  their  "  music  "  when 
they  want  it,  by  drumming  on  a  hollow  tree  or  log,  and 
yelling  all  together,  as  loudly  as  they  can.  The  curious 
fact  that,  on  difficult  journeys  from  place  to  place,  the 
husband  soko  "  carries  the  baby "  would  intimate  that 
these  apes  are  in  one  respect  superior  to  some  human 
savages.  From  the "  Last  Journals  of  Dr.  Livingstone  " 
we  extract  the  following  interesting  account : 

"  Four  gorillas,  or  sokos,  were  killed  yesterday.  An 
extensive  grass-burning  forced  them  out  of  their  usual 
haunt,  and,  coming  on  the  plain,  they  were  speared. 
They  often  go  erect,  but  place  the  hand  on  the  head  as 
if  to  steady  the  body.  When  seen  thus  the  soko  is  an 
ungainly  beast.  The  most  sentimental  young  lady  would 
not  call  him  a  "  dear,"  but  a  bandy-legged,  pot-bellied, 
low-looking  villain,  without  a  particle  of  the  gentleman 
in  him. 

"  Other  animals,  especially  the  antelopes,  are  graceful, 
and  it  is  pleasant  to  see  them,  either  at  rest  or  in  mo- 
tion. The  natives  are  also  well  made — lithe  and  comely 
to  behold  ;  but  the  soko,  if  large,  would  do  well  to  stand 
for  a  picture  of  the  devil.  He  takes  away  my  appetite 
by  his  disgusting  bestiality  of  appearance.  His  light 


THE   CHIMPANZEE. 


411 


yellow  face  shows  off  his  ugly  whiskers  and  faint  apology 
for  a  beard  ;  the  forehead  villainously  low,  with  high  ears, 
is  well  in  the  background  of  the  great  dog-mouth;  the 


THE   CHIMPANZEE. 


teeth  are  slightly  human,  but  the  canines  show  the  beast 
by  their  large  development. 

"  The  hands,  or  rather  fingers,  are  like  those  of  the 
natives.     The  flesh  of  the  feet  is  yellow,  and  the  eager- 


4I2  THE    WANDERING  MINSTREL. 

ness  with  which  the  Manyuema  devour  it  leaves  the 
impression  that  eating  sokos  was  the  first  stage  by 
which  they  arrived  at  being  cannibals.  They  say  the  flesh 
is  delicious. 

"  The  soko  is  represented  by  some  to  be  extremely 
knowing,  successfully  stalking  men  and  women  while  at 
their  work,  kidnapping  children  and  running  up  trees 
with  them.  He  seems  to  be  amused  by  the  sight  of  the 
young  natives  in  his  arms,  but  comes  down  when  tempted 
by  a  bunch  of  bananas,  and,  as  he  lifts  that,  drops  the 
child." 


THE  WANDERING  MINSTREL. 

'ANY  years  ago,  and  during  that  time  so  well 
known  as  the  "  Dark  Ages,"  when  our  language 
was  but  half  formed,  our  literature  almost  with- 
out a  beginning,  and  the  mass  of  the  people  in  a 
deplorable  state  of  ignorance,  there  could  be  seen, 
at  intervals,  the  wandering  minstrel,  roaming  from 
larfcl  to  land,  with  harp  slung  over  his  back,  or,  it 
may  be,  borne  by  some  faithful  servant.  Now  stooping 
beneath  some  wide  spreading  tree,  now  adding  mirth  to 
an  evening  party,  or  forming  a  welcome  guest  in  the 
halls  of  kings,  and  of  men  of  noble  blood,  he  roused 
their  spirits  by  his  stirring  ballads  of  love  and  war. 

He  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  the  cell-loving 
monk,  whose  seclusive  habits  cut  off  all  intercourse 
with  the  men  about  him,  and,  consequently,  the  feeling 
that  existed  between  the  two  was  far  from  having  any 
tendency  to  friendship. 


THE    WANDERING  MINSTREL.  413 

The  minstrel  was  naturally  very  popular.  He  was 
known  to  all  and  welcomed  by  all.  It  can  be  imagined 
with  what  delight  his  coming  was  hailed  by  the  people 
whose  only  instruction  consisted,  for  the  most  part,  of 
what  he  had  to  tell  them.  Reading  was  unknown  to 
the  majority  ;  and  even  had  it  been  taught  them,  the 
scarcity  of  books,  and  the  want  of  all  other  literature, 
would  have  precluded  them  from  benefiting  very  much 
from  such  an  acquirement.  Very  few  festivals  took 
place  without  the  cheering  mirth  of  the  minstrel. 

He  was  present  on  all  state  occasions,  at  tourna- 
ments, at  nuptials,  and  even  on  any  solemn  occasions. 
It  would  seem  that  the  mirth  on  any  occasion  could  not 
be  complete  without  his  presence.  It  must,  however, 
be  remembered,  that  he  was  something  more  than  a 
minstrel  in  our  sense  of  the  word.  His  abilities  were 
not  exhausted  in  the  recital  of  poems,  or  in  performing 
upon  the  harp. 

In  him  were  combined  a  multiplicity  of  talents.  Be- 
sides his  skill  as  a  poet  and  musician,  he  possessed 
wonderful  imitative  powers,  and  by  his  gestures,  which 
are  now  included  in  the  professions  of  juggler  and 
tumbler,  gave  additional  amusement  to  his  audience. 

And  yet  his  vocation  was  not  very  much  looked 
down  upon  by  the  higher  classes.  It  was  in  the  garb 
and  in  the  character  of  a  minstrel  that  Alfred  entered 
the  camp  of  the  Danes ;  and  the  fact  of  his  having  a 
servant  behind  him  to  bear  his  harp  only  confirms 
what  is  known  to  have  been  customary  with  many  of 
the  minstrels.  The  dress,  which  was  peculiar  to  the 
minstrels,  and  which  Alfred  must  have  assumed,  con- 
sisted of  a  long  green  gown,  with  sleeves  to  the  middle 
of  the  leg.  A  large  red  belt  girted  his  waist ;  and  not 
unfrequently  there  was  a  red  ribbon  about  his  neck.  His 


4j  4  THE    WANDERING  MINSTREL. 

tonsure  somewhat  resembled  that  of  the  monks.  A 
pair  of  soot-blackened  boots,  and  a  few  minor-adorn- 
ments completed  his  attire. 

In  early  Grecian  times  the  bards,  of  whom  Homer 
was  a  specimen,  sang  their  own  lays  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  the  lyre,  as  did  the  "scalds"  of  northern 
Europe  some  centuries  after.  There  was,  however, 
another  class  of  reciters,  known  as  the  rhapsodists,  who 
neither  rehearsed  their  own  verses  nor  used  any  manner 
of  instrument,  relying  solely  upon  the  effect  they  were 
capable  of  producing  by  their  voice  and  gestures. 
Like  the  minstrels,  they  went  from  one  place  to  another, 
known  by  the  laurel  branch  they  bore,  just  as  the  min- 
strels were  distinguished  by  their  peculiar  badge, —  a 
wrest  turning  or  key. 

The  gradual  downfall  of  minstrelsy  took  away 
many  of  the  attributes  which  formerly  belonged  to  the 
wandering  life  of  the  bard.  The  minstrel  was  only  to 
be  known  as  the  musician  and  poet,  while  feats  of  jug- 
glery and  gesturing  were  taken  up  by  another  profes- 
sional class.  The  minstrel  is  now  the  poet;  the  juggler 
and  tumbler  are  now  the  professions  followed  only  by 
the  lowest  classes  of  people. 


BATHING  IN  FAMOUS    WATERS.  415 


BATHING   IN   FAMOUS   WATERS. 

HE  Jordan  is  about  the  color  of  a  new  slate  — 
a  slate  with  the  greenish-grey  cloud  still  covering 
the  surface.  Its  waters  are  opaque,  thickened 
with  clay,  but  delicious  in  temperature,  and  very 
refreshing  to  a  pilgrim's  palate.  Is  it  a  wonder 
that  the  river  rushes  like  a  mill-race?  From  its  source 
to  its  mouth,  one  hundred  and  thirty-six  miles  in  a  bee 
line,  it  descends  three  thousand  feet.  Its  very  name, 
"Yarden,"  in  Hebrew  signifies  descent.  It  twists  and 
turns  until  it  has  trebled  the  natural  course  from  foun- 
tain to  sea.  It  rises  in  its  might  and  covers  the  plains, 
and  drives  back  the  flocks  and  herds  that  feed  along  its 
banks.  You  cannot  bridge  it ;  often  you  cannot  ford  it. 
We  got  out  of  our  clothes,  and  with  the  fresh  air  of 
the  morning  blowing  upon  us  we  passed  into  the  cleans- 
ing flood.  There  was  life  in  every  drop  of  it.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  about  it;  as  a  tonic  the  Jordan  is  un- 
rivaled. While  we  waded  cautiously  near  the  shore, 
sitting  down  in  the  clay  bottom  to  get  as  much  of  the 
water  with  as  little  of  the  current  as  possible,  we  were 
startled  by  a  crashing  of  underbrush  and  a  thunder  of 
feet.  Out  of  the  bush  emerged  the  Russian  pilgrims 
in  the  wildest  excitement.  Each  strove  to  be  the  first 
to  plunge  into  the  stream.  Many  of  them  were  already 
half  naked,  and  they  speedily  stripped,  put  on  a  long 
white  garment  —  a  kind  of  shroud  in  which  it  is  their 
wish  to  be  buried  —  and  having  immersed  themselves 
in  the  Jordan,  they  took  off  the  shroud,  rolled  it  care- 
fully up,  and  having  placed  it  in  their  luggage  returned 
quite  naked  to  pass  a  half  hour  in  the  river. 


416 


BATHING  IN  FAMOUS    WATERS. 


Off  for  the  Dead  Sea !  A  rapid  run  in  the  fresh 
morning  air,  over  the  parched  plains.  Much  of  the 
way  we  followed  the  Jordan  bank,  and  were  sheltered 
somewhat  by  the  foliage  that  fringes  it.  All  this  time, 
though  we  could  have  leaped  into  the  stream  with  a 
hop,  skip  and  a  jump,  we  caught  only  occasional  glimpses 
of  the  river  as  it  rushed  like  a  mill-race  between  its 
steep  clay  walls,  buried  out  of  sight  by  its  luxurious 
groves  of  willow.  Until  we  were  actually  upon  the 
shore  of  the  sea,  ploughing  through  pebbles  and  soft 
sand,  we  strained  our  eyes  in  vain  toward  the  valley  of 
death,  eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  its  bitter  waters. 
Our  trail  wound  through  a  dense  growth  of  cane,  olean- 
ders, cactus  and  tamarisk.  We  trotted  over  the  baked 
soil  in  Indian  file,  thinking  of  the  wild  boars,  wolves, 
jackals  and  leopards  that  prowl  in  the  vale  of  Gilgal  — 
the  vale  that  was  of  old  compared  to  "  the  Garden  of 
the  Lord."  We  saw  nothing,  not  even  a  vulture,  though 
no  panorama  of  the  Dead  Sea  is  complete  without  a 
shadow  of  his  wings  darkening  the  canvas. 

Out  of  the  splendid  distance,  over  the  Salt  Sea,  the 
Sea  of  Asphalt,  the  Lake  of  Lot  —  call  it  by  what  name 
you  will,  for  it  bears  all  these  —  over  the  Eastern  Sea 
of  the  old  prophets,  stole  the  withering  breath  of  a  fur- 
nace. Our  horses  sweltered  in  the  heat.  There  was  no 
possible  shelter  near  the  shore,  for  our  camp  trappings 
had  already  gone  up  into  the  wilderness.  A  dip  into 
the  gummy  and  elastic  water  was  all  we  asked  now,  and 
in  ten  minutes  we  stood  upon  the  sand  half  blinded 
with  the  heat  and  glare  that  nearly  overcame  us  before 
we  were  safely  out  of  it.  The  sea  near  the  plain  of  the 
Jordan  is  shallow.  Looking  toward  the  south,  the  eye 
is  lost  in  the  profound  mists  that  envelop  it.  Six  and 
forty  miles  of  sky-blue  crystal,  thirteen  hundred  feet  in 


BATHING  IN  FAMOUS    WATERS. 


417 


depth,  the  topmost  wave  of  which  is  thirteen  hundred 
feet  below  the  level  of  the  Mediterranean.  Neither 
fish,  shells  nor  coral  are  found  here.  There  are  fish- 
bones on  the  shore,  the  wrecks  of  the  Jordan.  The 
bitter  oil  —  it  is  hardly  worthy  of  the  name  of  water- 
strangles  everything  to  death,  and  then  spits  it  out  into 
the  sun.  Six  million  tons  of  sweet  water  fall  into  the 
Dead  Sea  daily ;  six  million  tons  rise  out  of  it,  spirit- 
ualized, and  float  over  it. 

When  we  passed  into  the  water  we  felt  the  weight 
of  it  before  we  had  got  knee  deep.  Soon  we  grew 
buoyant,  and  kept  our  balance  with  some  difficulty.  It 
was  like  trying  to  swim  on  corks  that  won't  keep  their 
places.  A  few  steps  farther  and  over  we  went,  heels 
up,  and,  to  our  surprise,  heads  up,  likewise.  The  bath 
was  certainly  most  refreshing,  and  the  novelty  of  it  not 
unlike  a  good-natured  practical  joke.  When  least  sus- 
picious, over  we  went  on  all-fours,  bobbing  like  blad- 
ders, and  finding  it  extremely  difficult  to  make  much 
headway  through  the  almost  solid  waters.  The  Dead 
Sea  does  for  a  change  of  medicine  ;  it  is  as  bitter  as 
gall  ;  but  I  would  as  soon  think  of  swimming  in  a 
strong  solution  of  feather  beds.  When  we  had  once 
more  got  into  our  clothes  and  struck  out  for  the  wilder- 
ness, our  skin  burnt  like  fire,  and  we  shed  flakes  of  salt 
in  such  profusion  you  might  have  easily  mistaken  us  for 
members  of  the  Lot  family. 


4I  8  THE  BARBER  IN  THE  EAST. 


THE    BARBER    IN    THE    EAST 

N  the  East  everything  is  grave  and  systematic, 
and  particularly  is  it  so  among  the  Turks.  For 
instance,  if  you  can  possibly  induce  a  Turk  to 
sing  you  but  one  verse  of  a  Turkish  melody,  he 
must  go  through  much  preparation  before  he  com- 
mences. First  his  pipe  must  be  freshly  filled ;  then 
he  gravely  strokes  down  his  beard  and  looks  all  about 
him  to  see  that  each  one  is  giving  him  proper  atten- 
tion ;  then  he  hums  a  few  words  gently  to  himself, 
plays  imaginary  notes  with  his  fingers  in  the  air,  finally 
opens  his  mouth  to  an  alarming  extent,  and  produces 
the  most  inharmonious  sounds  that  can  possibly  be 
imagined.  But  we  have  nothing  to  do  at  present  with 
oriental  musicians  or  their  strains,  except  to  observe 
that  the  same  etiquette  is  carried  out  in  every  other 
pastime  as  well  as  in  commencing  a  musical  perform- 
ance. 

The  occupation  of  a  barber  is  only  known  among 
those  nations  that  have  made  a  certain  progress  in 
civilization,  and  all  over  the  East  they  have  been  for 
many  ages  noted  as  important  members  of  the  state. 
In  India  the  barber  is  the  great  newsmonger  of  the 
town ;  there  is  not  a  thing  stirring  nor  an  ill-wind 
blowing  that  he  is  not  aware  of,  and  the  information 
retailed  piecemeal  by  him  to  every  customer  that 
visits  his  shop.  In  China,  a  barber's  experience  is  very 
extensive ;  he  deals  not  only  with  the  heads  but  the 
tails  of  the  people,  and  his  skill  is  acknowledged  from 
the  emperor  down.  But  it  is  in  Turkey,  in  the  land  of 
the  caliphs,  that  he  is  to  be  met  in  all  his  dignity, 


THE  BARBER  IN  THE  EAST.  419 

honored  by  the  multitude  and  enjoying  familiar  inter- 
course with  the  pasha.  He  is  always  an  early  riser, 
and  commences  the  day's  operations  by  experimenting 
upon  himself.  His  mustache  is  a  model  for  curl,  gloss 
and  length,  his  head  smooth  and  hairless  as  a  friar's, 
his  costume  in  the  height  of  Turkish  fashion,  and  in 
the  season  he  is  sure  to  have  a  sweet-smelling  posy 
fastened  in  his  button-hole.  There  he  stands  com- 
plete ;  the  terror  of  young  gentlemen  with  a  weak 
growth  of  beard  or  a  tender  head,  and  the  aversion 
of  the  day  laborer,  compelled  to  visit  him  with  an 
eight  days'  growth  of  beard  to  submit  to  his  rough 
management. 

Thus  equipped,  and  refreshed  by  his  early  coffee 
and  pipe,  off  he  goes  to  his  shop,  and  there,  long  be- 
fore any  one  is  astir,  his  floor  is  swept,  his  shelves 
dusted,  fresh  napkins  spread  out,  his  chairs  and  stools 
set  in  order,  and  the  business  of  the  day  begins  in 
earnest. 

In  comes  an  old  gentleman  suffering  with  rheuma- 
tism. He  is  very  particular  that  not  one  item  of 
etiquette  shall  be  dispensed  with  in  the  Turkish  shav- 
ing operations.  After  a  long  string  of  compliments 
have  been  exchanged,  and  the  weather  carelessly  al- 
luded to,  he  seats  himself  ceremoniously  in  the  barber's 
chair  and  awaits  the  attack  upon  his  head  and  beard. 
First  he  is. carefully  relieved  of  his  heavy  turban,  which 
is  laid  upon  the  shelf  and  covered  with  a  snowy  nap- 
kin ;  then  he  is  enveloped  in  a  long  apron  from  his 
chin  to  his  heels ;  that  ties  behind,  leaving  him  a  victim 
to  the  flies,  which  tickle  his  head  and  wander  in  and 
out  of  his  beard  at  their  own  pleasure,  until,  in  a  state 
of  frenzy,  he  calls  loudly  upon  Mahomet  and  the 
barber.  The  last  named  personage  rushes  to  his  assist- 


420 


THE  BARBER  IN   THE   EAST. 


ance  with  a  huge  basin  of  hot  suds,  and  in  a  trice  we 
have  lost  sight  of  the  poor  old  victim,  whose  head  and 
face  present  one  extensive  field  of  froth,  soap-bubbles 
and  hot  vapor.  Now  is  our  barber  in  his  element, 
scrubbing  away  with  a  huge  hair  bag  on  each  hand  ; 
suddenly  he  darts  to  one  side,  seizes  a  basin  full  of 
very  hot  water,  and  the  next  instant  head,  soap-bubbles 
and  all  are  drenched  with  this.  In  a  few  seconds  the 
head  reappears,  with  inflamed  face  and  eyes  starting 
from  their  sockets,  sputtering  and  groaning  for  breath. 
Barely  has  he  had  time  to  recover  himself  than  another 
basin  is  produced  and  the  head  again  is  lost  to  sight. 
This  time  the  water  is  bitter  cold,  and  the  whole  frame 
quivers  from  the  sudden  shock.  On  again  appearing 
a  ghostly  pallor  is  over  his  face,  but  a  dry  towel  soon 
restores  his  natural  complexion,  and  a  razor  is  now 
gently  passed  from  the  crown  of  his  head  round  to  his 
chin  with  wonderful  speed,  leaving  a  small  tuft  of  hair 
on  the  crown,  and  the  much  prized  oriental  mustache. 

The  old  customer,  now  released,  rises,  and  after 
washing  face  and  hands  goes  through  the  operation 
of  having  all  his  joints  cracked,  and  off  they  go  like 
a  small  battery  of  Chinese  fire-crackers.  His  turban  is 
now  restored,  pipe  and  coffee  handed  to  him,  and,  seated 
in  an  easy-chair,  we  will  leave  him  sipping  the  one  and 
whiffing  the  other  to  his  entire  satisfaction. 

The  next  customer  the  barber  has  to  deal  with  is, 
perhaps,  an  oriental  dandy,  who,  after  going  through 
the  same  operation,  stands  at  least  five  minutes  before 
the  glass  twisting  and  curling  his  mustache  into  a  variety 
of  shapes,  and  gazing  at  himself  with  evident  admira- 
tion. At  length  off  he  goes,  and  after  him  a  whole 
posse  arrives. 

By  midday  the   barber's   shaving   and    shampooing 


COMETS  AND  METEORS.  421 

labors  are  over,  and  he  passes  his  afternoons  in  notch- 
ing scores  against  creditors,  or  else  notching  the  heads 
of  those  who  come  to  him  suffering  from  sick  headache, 
and  doling  out  the  bits  of  gossip  he  has  picked  up  to 
the  inquisitive  and  gossiping  portion  of  the  community, 
who  seek  there  for  fashionableness,  and  information 
respecting  affairs  of  state. 

The  sign  of  the  surgeon-barber  is  a  striped  pole 
from  which  suspends  a  basin,  the  fillet  round  the  pole 
indicating  the  ribbon  or  bandage  twisted  round  the 
arm  previous  to  blood-letting,  the  pole  for  the  patient 
to  grasp,  and  the  basin  to  receive  the  blood. 


COMETS   AND    METEORS. 

HE  Chaldeans,  who  first  marshaled  the  stars  and 
gave  the  several  groups  the  fanciful  forms  and 
names  which  the  celestial  constellations  still  retain, 
early  noticed  that  certain  prominent  stars  could  not 
be  assigned  to  any  particular  group,  in  consequence 
of  their  constant  change  of  position.  These  were  called 
planets,  or  wanderers,  to  distinguish  them  from  the 
fixed  stars  of  constellations.  But  occasionally  those 
ancient  students  of  the  stars  were  astonished  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  luminous  bodies  which  in  form 
and  movement  could  not  be  classed  with  either  planets 
or  fixed  stars.  The  diversity  of  forms  which  these 
bodies  assumed,  their  sudden  appearance,  their  rapid 
motion,  and  their  limited  duration,  led  the  ancients  to 


422 


COMETS  AND  METEORS. 


refer  them  to  the  regions  of  our  atmosphere  rather  than 
to  the  upper  heavens  —  the  home  of  the  true  stars. 

The   Greeks   called   these  strange  visitors   bearded 
stars,  from  which  name  our  word  comet  is  derived.  The 


DIFFERENT  KINDS  OF  COMETS. 

ancients  regarded  the  visitation  of  a  comet  as  a  super- 
natural phenomenon,  and  always  an  evil  omen  —  a 
portent  of  war,  pestilence,  the  overthrow  of  empires,  the 
death  of  the  reigning  sovereign,  or  some  other  dreadful 
calamity.  Even  as  late  as  1456,  on  the  appearance  of 


COMETS  AND  METEORS.  423 

Halley's  comet,  the  Pope  issued  a  decree  that  special 
prayers  should  be  offered  at  noon-day  in  all  churches, 
"to  deprecate  the  threatened  wrath  of  Heaven."  This 
frightful  star  is  described  as  cometa  korrendae  mag- 
nitudinis>  with  a  tail  reaching  from  the  horizon  to  the 
zenith.  It  is  a  matter  of  regret  that  the  superstitious 
fears  and  excited  imagination  of  the  ancients  rendered 
them  incompetent  to  observe  and  transmit  to  us  accu- 
rate descriptions  of  the  various  comets,  the  appearance 
of  which  they  have  noticed.  For  example,  Ambrose 
Pare,  one  of  the  most  accurate  observers  and  clearest 
writers  on  general  subjects  which  the  sixteenth  century 
produced,  in  describing  a  comet  which  he  saw  in  1528, 
says : 

"  It  appeared  to  be  of  excessive  length,  and  was  of 
the  color  of  blood  ;  at  its  summit  was  seen  the  figure  of 
a  bent  arm  holding  a  large  sword  in  its  hand,  as  if  about 
to  strike.  At  the  end  of  the  point  were  three  stars. 
At  both  sides  of  the  rays  of  this  comet  were  seen  a  great 
number  of  axes,  knives,  and  swords  of  the  color  of  blood, 
among  which  were  a  great  number  of  hideous  human 
faces  with  ragged  beards  and  locks.  " 

Seneca,  the  Roman  philosopher,  first  suggested  that 
comets  might  be  planets  in  a  modified  form  and  gov- 
erned by  special  laws ;  but  Tycho  Brahe  was  the  first 
to  make  such  accurate  observations  as  to  determine  the 
size,  distance  and  motion  of  comets,  and  to  assign  them 
their  place  among  astronomical  bodies.  Newton  in 
demonstrating  and  applying  his  universal  law  of  gravity, 
reached  the  conclusion  that  the  orbit  of  a  comet  is  a 
very  long  eclipse,  but  Dorfel,  shortly  after,  published  a 
demonstration  that  the  track  of  a  comet  is  a  true 
parabola.  Halley,  applying  these  principles,  calculated 
the  elements  of  the  orbit  in  which  the  comet  of  1682 


COMETS  AND   METEORS. 

was  moving,  for  which  he  deduced  for  it  a  period  of 
seventy-five  years.  Turning  to  history,  he  found  that 
a  comet  had  appeared  in  1607,  in  1531,  and  in  1456, 
showing  intervals  of  but  a  fraction  more  than  seventy- 
five  years.  He  therefore  confidently  predicted  that  it 
would  return  early  in  the  year  1 758,  but  as  that  period 
approached  it  was  discovered  that  the  path  of  the  comet 
would  cut  the  orbits  of  Jupiter  and  Saturn  at  points 
near  where  these  planets  would  be  at  that  time,  and  the 
result  was  watched  with  great  interest. 

The  attraction  of  Saturn  retarded  the  comet  fifty 
days,  which  brought  Jupiter  forward  in  his  orbit  nearly 
to  the  point  where  it  cut  the  path  of  the  comet,  and  a 
collision  appeared  imminent,  but  the  stranger  passed 
peaceably  by  without  producing  any  visible  effect  on 
either  the  planet  or  his  satellites  ;  but  the  comet  was  so 
retarded  that  it  did  not  reach  its  perihelion,  or  nearest 
point  to  the  sun,  till  the  I3th  day  of  March,  1759  — 
more  than  twelve  months  after  the  time  predicted  by 
Halley. 

In  1770  another  comet  passed  so  near  to  Jupiter  as 
to  become  entangled  among  his  moons  for  nearly  a 
year,  and  when  it  escaped  its  motion  was  so  modified 
that  it  moved  in  an  entirely  new  orbit,  yet  the  motion 
of  the  planet  was  not  disturbed  in  the  least.  These 
circumstances  prove  that  comets  consist  of  matter  in  a 
highly  rarefied  state  —  probably  not  so  dense  as  the 
lighted  cloud  that  fioats  in  our  upper  air.  This  is  cer- 
tainly true  of  the  nebulous  envelope  and  tail  of  a  comet, 
for  the  fixed  stars  are  often  visible  through  these,  but 
most  comets  have  a  distinct  nucleus  or  head  around 
which  the  envelope  is  wrapped,  and  to  which  the  tail  is 
attached.  Of  the  nature  of  this  body  we  know  little 
beyond  the  fact  that  it  is  too  dense  to  admit  the  trans- 


COMETS   AND  METEORS.  425 

mission  of  light  through  it.  Shining  only  by  reflected 
light,  the  spectroscope  has  made  no  reliable  revelations 
touching  the  kind  of  matter  of  which  comets  are  com- 
posed. 

The  number  of  comets  belonging  to  the  solar  sys- 
tem is,  no  doubt,  very  great,  many  of  them  being  visible 
from  distance  even  at  their  perihelion,  and  others  being 
so  small  as  to  be  visible  only  when  in  our  immediate 
vicinity,  and  some  make  such  immense  voyages  into 
space  that  they  can  hardly  be  regarded  as  belonging  to 
us.  Thus  the  comet  of  1769  has  a  period  of  2,089 
years,  and  the  great  comet  of  1680  will  not  be  seen 
till  the  expiration  of  8,792  from  its  departure.  On  the 
other  hand,  Encke's  comet  has  a  period  of  only  1,205 
days,  and  performs  its  entire  voyage  within  the  orbit 
of  the  planet  Jupiter.  Halley's  planet,  with  a  period 
of  seventy-five  years,  recedes  from  the  sun  60,000,000 
beyond  the  orbit  of  Neptune,  the  present  boundaries 
of  the  solar  system. 

While  planets  move  in  orbits  but  slightly  elliptical, 
and  on  nearly  the  same  plane,  and  all  move  from  west 
to  east,  the  elongated  orbits  of  comets  cut  the  plane  of 
the  ecliptic  at  all  angles,  and  many  of  them  have  what 
is  called  a  retrograde  motion  —  that  is,  they  move  from 
east  to  west.  Comets  differ  from  each  other  in  appear- 
ance almost  as  much  as  they  differ  from  other  members 
of  the  celestial  family.  Some  have  no  well-defined 
nucleus,  but  appear  to  be  all  tail ;  others  have  no  tail, 
but  appear  like  the  fragment  of  a  cloud,  dense  in  the 
center  and  shading  off  to  an  ill-defined  margin.  Even 
the  same  comet  at  its  several  returns  rarely  has  the 
same  appearance.  Halley's  comet  in  1607  had  a  tail 
60°  long,  spreading  out  like  a  fan,  and  appeared  to  be 
divided  into  several  rays  extending  from  the  head  of 


.2 6  COMETS  AND  METEORS. 

the  comet  to  the  extremity  of  the  tail.  (See  engraving.) 
On  its  next  return  (1682)  the  tail  was  but  30°  long, 
and  very  slender  ;  in  i  759  it  was  scarcely  visible  to  the 
naked  eye,  and  astronomers  inferred  that  it  was  wast- 
ing away  and  would  soon  disappear,  but  in  1835  it 
returned  with  a  brilliant  nucleus  and  a  well-defined  tail 
12°  long. 

The  most  remarkable  comet  of  modern  times  made 
its  appearance  in  February,  1843.  ^  was  visible  in 
daylight  from  the  28th  of  February  till  the  7th  of  March. 
On  the  1 7th  of  March  the  nucleus,  when  30°  above  the 
horizon,  cast  a  distinct  shadow,  and  its  tail,  of  pearly 
white  light,  swept  an  arc  of  40°  on  the  celestial  dome. 
This  comet  made  a  nearer  approach  to  the  sun  than  any 
other  observed  comet.  In  passing  its  perihelion,  it 
came  within  60,000  miles  of  the  surface  of  that  lumi- 
nary, or  one-fourth  the  distance  of  the  moon  from  the 
earth.  The  heat  of  the  sun  being  increased  as  the 
square  of  the  distance  inversely,  the  temperature  of 
the  comet  at  its  nearest  approach  was  47,000  times  as 
great  as  the  heat  of  a  tropical  sun  on  the  earth,  or  more 
than  thirty  times  as  hot  as  the  highest  heat  of  a  blast- 
furnace. The  velocity  of  this  comet  was  even  more 
astonishing.  In  passing  its  perihelion  its  motion,  as 
measured  at  several  observatories,  exceeded  20,000  miles 
per  minute,  or  a  million  and  a  quarter  miles  per  hour. 
The  elements  of  its  orbit  were  carefully  calculated  by 
Professor  Hubbard,  of  the  Washington  Observatory, 
and  its  periodic  time  fixed  at  one  hundred  and  seventy 
years.  We  may  therefore  look  for  its  return  in  the  year 
2013,  but  perhaps  it  will  return  so  changed  that  its 
friends  will  not  know  it. 

No  comet,  since  comets  were  understood,  produced 
more  excitement  and  apprehension  in  the  public  mind 


COMETS   AND  METEORS. 


427 


than  the  comet  of  1843.  The  astronomers  had  not  pre- 
dicted its  advent,  and  as  it  approached  the  sun  it  was 
above  the  horizon  only  in  daylight,  and  consequently 
invisible  ;  but  passing  its  perihelion  it  flamed  out  on 
the  east  of  the  sun,  in  a  red-hot  brilliancy  that  was 
visible  even  at  noonday.  With  a  speed  of  30,000,000 
miles  per  day  it  crossed  the  earth's  orbit  on  the  fourth 
day  of  its  voyage,  and  in  twenty  days  it  was  lost  to  the 
naked  eye. 

The  circumstances  under  which  this  "  blazing  star  " 
made  its  appearan.ce  added  much  to  its  power  in  calling 
out  the  latent  superstition  of  the  age.  For  several 
months  previously  the  prediction  had  been  confidently 
and  zealously  announced,  both  in  this  country  and  in 
Europe,  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand,  and 
March  was  fixed  as  the  month  of  the  general  conflagra- 
tion. The  appearance  of  this  great  comet  on  the  first 
of  that  month,  and  its  rapid  approach  to  the  earth,  pro- 
duced an  effect  on  the  public  mind  that  can  be  better 
imagined  than  described. 

Science  had  scarcely  relieved  the  world  of  its  super- 
stitious fears  in  regard  to  comets  before  another  and 
apparently  a  more  serious  source  of  alarm  was  revealed. 
The  eccentric  orbits  of  comets  cut  the  track  of  all  the 
planets  both  in  passing  to  their  perihelion  and  receding 
from  it  —  at  least  this  is  true  of  all  comets  whose  orbits 
lie  on  or  near  the  plane  of  the  ecliptic,  and  whose  paths 
extend  beyond  the  orbit  of  Neptune.  This  being 
demonstrated,  a  collision  between  comets  and  planets 
was  not  only  possible,  but  highly  probable.  The  enor- 
mous size  of  some  of  those  "  pilgrims  of  the  heavens," 
and  the  inconceivable  velocity  at  which  they  move  made 
the  idea  of  a  collision  most  alarming. 

To    add  weight  to  these    apprehensions,  the   early 


428  COMETS   AND   METEORS. 

years  of  this  century  revealed  a  cluster  of  small  plan- 
etary bodies  revolving  in  irregular  orbits  between  those 
of  Mars  and  Jupiter.  The  astronomers  interpreted 
these  as  the  fragments  of  a  planet  which  had  once 
occupied  this  space,  but  had  been  broken  up  by  some 
terrible  catastrophe ;  and  what  so  likely  as  a  collision 
with  a  comet?  But  the  discovery  of  a  greater  number 
of  these  asteroids,  as  they  are  now  called,  and  a  careful 
study  of  their  orbits  and  the  diversity  of  their  move- 
ments, have  convinced  astronomers  that  these  are  origi- 
nal, independent  bodies,  and  not  the  fragments  of  a 
broken  planet.  Moreover,  a  series  of  accurate  observa- 
tions on  the  movements  of  comets,  and  a  comparison 
of  these  with  observations  previously  made,  have  given 
us  a  better  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  these  strange 
visitors,  and  a  more  familiar  acquaintance  has  done 
much  to  diminish  our  fear  of  them.  The  exceedingly 
small  amount  of  matter  in  comets,  notwithstanding 
their  great  bulk,  has  been  fully  demonstrated.  The 
comet  of  1770  came  so  near  the  earth  that,  had  its 
density  equaled  our  planet,  it  would  materially  have 
increased  the  size  of  our  orbit  and  proportionally 
lengthened  our  year.  Yet  our  year  was  not  changed 
even  the  fraction  of  a  second.  Laplace  has  shown 
that  had  its  attraction  equaled  1-2000  that  of  the  earth, 
its  effect  could  have  been  very  readily  estimated. 

It  may,  indeed,  be  asked,  What  evidence  have  we 
that  comets  have  any  matter,  and  are  not  mere  optical 
phenomena— luminous  displays  from  some  unknown 
law  of  light  ?  This  suggestion  is  answered  by  the  fact 
that  though  they  do  not  appear  to  affect,  in  the  least, 
the  motion  of  planets  or  their  satellites,  yet  they  are 
themselves  very  much  disturbed  by  the  proximity  of 
planets,  and  this  disturbance  follows  the  law  of  uni- 


COMETS   AND   METEORS. 


429 


versal  gravitation.  A  ball  of  iron  suspended  by  a  silk 
cord,  if  charged  with  electricity  will  materially  affect 
a  ball  of  cotton  batting,  similarly  suspended,  if  brought 
near  to  it,  without  being  perceptibly  affected  itself,  and 
yet  the  action  is  evidently  mutual,  and  in  proportion  to 
the  amount  of  matter  in  each  body. 

It  is  probable,  from  all  their  phenomena,  that  comets 
consist  of  matter  in  a  gaseous  state,  and  consequently, 
in  the  event  of  a  collision,  the  solid  planet  would  pass 
through  the  comet  with  little  or  no  disturbance  of  either 
body  except  the  change  in  the  orbit  of  the  comet  from 
planetary  attraction.  The  comet  of  1770,  previous  to 
its  entanglement  among  the  moons  of  Jupiter  in  1767, 
had  an  orbit  that  gave  the  comet  a  period  of  fifty  years, 
but  after  its  detention  its  orbit  was  so  changed  that  its 
time  was  reduced  to  five  and  a  half  years.  But  this 
did  not  produce  the  least  effect  appreciable,  either  on 
Jupiter  or  his  satellites. 

METEORS. 

Almost  every  clear  night  an  observer  may  see  a  bril- 
liant light  stream  across,  the  sky,  frequently  traversing 
forty  or  fifty  degrees  of  its  arc,  and  leaving  often  a  lumi- 
nous trail,  which  is  visible  for  several  seconds.  In  com- 
mon language  these  are  called  "shooting  stars," but  in 
reality  they  are  not  stars,  as  they  do  not  belong  to  the 
far-off  regions  of  space,  but  are  evidently  located  in  the 
upper  regions  of  our  own  atmosphere,  and  are  therefore 
properly  terrestrial  phenomena. 

The  special  attention  of  scientists  was  first  called  to 
the  subject  by  the  great  meteoric  shower  of  November 
13,  1833,  and  since  that  time  many  important  observa- 
tions have  been  made  as  to  the  nature  of  the  bodies, 
and  the  periodical  return  of  their  display  in  numbers. 


430  COMETS   AND   METEORS. 

On  that  memorable  i3th  of  November,  1833,  several 
brilliant  meteors  appeared  at  irregular  intervals  during 
the  early  part  of  the  night ;  but  about  two  o'clock  A.M. 
they  became  so  numerous  as  to  attract  attention,  and 
from  that  hour,  till  daylight  rendered  them  invisible,  the 
whole  dome  of  the  heavens  appeared  flecked  all  over 
with  fiery  particles  darting  down  toward  the  horizon 
at  every  point.  Occasionally  one  would  appear  as  large 
as  Venus,  and  in  a  few  instances  brilliant  bodies  nearly 
as  large  as  a  full  moon  would  move  along  the  sky,  cast- 
ing a  distinct  shadow  of  objects  on  the  earth. 

The  line  of  direction  traversed  by  these  meteors, 
when  traced  backward,  appeared  to  concentrate  in  the 
constellation  Leo.  This  shower  was  seen  all  over  North 
America,  appearing  with  equal  splendor  from  Labrador 
to  Mexico,  and  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  coast. 
The  meteors  moved  in  straight  lines,  or  rather  in  such 
apparent  curves  as  by  optical  laws  are  resolvable  into 
right  lines.  On  investigating  the  subject,  it  appears  that 
similar  phenomena  were  observed  on  the  I7th  of  Octo- 
ber, 902;  i  Qth  of  October,  1202;  2ist  of  October, 
1306;  loth  of  November,  1787;  12th  of  November, 
1799;  I3th  of  November,  1818,  in  England  ;  andi3thof 
November,  1822,  in  Germany.  It  appears,  therefore,  that 
meteoric  showers  occur  in  pretty  regular  series,  having 
lost  but  twenty-seven  days  in  931  years.  Since  1833 
the  November  shower  has  been  observed  several  times, 
on  the  morning  of  the  1 3th,  and  sometimes  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  same  day,  but  no  recurrence  compares  in 
brilliancy  with  the  display  of  1833. 

The  position  of  these  meteors  in  relation  to  the 
earth  is  variously  estimated  at  from  100  to  1,000  miles 
distant.  This  is  a  difficult  point  to  determine  with 
accuracy,  as  the  rapidity  of  their  motion  precludes  the 


METEORIC  SHOWERS. 


4^2  COMETS  AND  METEORS. 

possibility  of  accurate  observations  with  appropriate 
instruments.  It  is  quite  evident,  however,  that  the  phe- 
nomenon occurs  at  the  point  where  the  meteoric  matter 
comes  into  contact  with  our  atmosphere. 

The  theory  of  these  meteoric  showers  now  most  gen- 
erally adopted  is,  that  a  belt  of  nebulous  matter  revolves 
around  the  sun  in  an  orbit  resembling  that  of  a  comet, 
and  that  the  orbit  of  the  earth  cuts  this  belt,  and  the 
earth  passes  that  point  about  the  I3th  of  November 
each  year.  Frequently,  however,  the  earth  passes  the 
belt  at  a  point  where  nebulous  matter  is  but  sparsely 
distributed,  and  then  the  meteors  are  not  noticed.  Sev- 
eral other  meteoric  periods  have  been  observed :  as  the 
9th  of  August,  the  2ist  of  April  and  the  7th  of  Decem- 
ber, but  at  none  of  these  points  has  the  display  been 
such  as  to  compare  with  the  November  shower,  either 
in  number  or  brilliancy  of  the  meteors. 

Aerolites,  or  meteoric  stones,  are  closely  connected 
with  meteors,  though  at  regular  meteoric  showers  no 
aerolites  have  ever  been  observed  to  fall.  Even  if  the 
nebulous  matter  were  stationary,  the  velocity  with  which 
the  earth  would  strike  it  in  our  annual  voyage  around 
the  sun  would  produce  sufficient  heat  to  volatilize  any 
form  of  matter  with  which  we  are  acquainted  ;  and  the 
contact  with  our  atmosphere  at  a  velocity  of  1 70  miles 
per  minute  would  be  nearly  equal  to  contact  with  a 
solid  body.  But  a  solid  meteoric  body  moving  in  the 
same  general  direction  as  the  earth,  but  at  a  different 
velocity,  may  be  drawn  into  the  attraction  of  our  planet, 
and,,revolving  spirally  around  it,  finally  fall  into  contact 
with  the  earth's  surface.  The  occurrence  of  such 
meteors,  and  the  fall  of  aerolites,  or  meteoric  stones,  are 
quite  common.  These  have  very  uniformly  a  similar 
composition,  metallic  iron  always  predominating. 


HAPPT  ACCIDENTS.  433 


HAPPY  ACCIDENTS. 

;HE  cracking  of  a  picture  placed  in  the  sunshine 
set  Van  Dyck  experimenting  to  produce  a  varnish 
that  would  dry  in  the  shade.  He  found  what  he 
sought,  and  found  besides  that  by  mixing  it  with  his 
colors  they  acquired  greater  force  and  brilliancy, 
and  required  no  subsequent  varnishing ;  and  so  came 
about  the  discovery,  or  rediscovery,  of  the  art  of  paint- 
ing in  oil.  Mezzotinto  owed  its  invention  by  Prince 
Rupert  to  the  simple  accident  of  a  sentry's  gun-barrel 
being  rusted  by  the  dew.  Henry  Schanward,  a  Nurem- 
berg glass-cutter,  happened  to  let  some  aqua  fortis  fall 
upon  his  spectacles,  and  noticed  the  glass  was  corroded 
and  softened  where  the  aqua  fortis  had  touched  it. 
Taking  the  hint,  he  made  a  liquid  accordingly,  drew 
some  figures  upon  a  piece  of  glass,  covered  them  with 
varnish,  applied  his  corroding  fluid,  and  cut  away  the 
glass  around  his  drawing,  so  that  when  he  removed  the 
varnish  the  figures  appeared  raised  upon  a  dark  ground  ; 
and  etching  upon  glass  was  added  to  the  ornamental 
arts.  Alois  Senefelder,  playwright  and  actor,  thinking 
it  possible  to  etch  upon  stone  in  lieu  of  copper,  polished 
a  slab  for  the  purpose.  He  was  disturbed  by  his  mother 
coming  into  his  small  laboratory  with  the  request  that 
he  would  jot  down  her  list  of  things  for  the  wash,  as  the 
woman  was  waiting  to  take  the  basket  away.  There 
being  neither  paper  nor  ink  handy,  Senefelder  scribbled 
the  items  on  his  stone  with  his  etching  preparation, 
that  he  might  copy  them  at  his  leisure.  Some  time 
afterward,  when  about  to  clean  the  stone,  he  thought 
he  might  as  well  see  what  would  be  the  effect  of  biting 
28 


434  HAPPY  ACCIDENTS. 

the  stone  with  aqua  fortis,  and  in  a  few  minutes  saw  the 
writing  standing  out  in  relief.  Taking  up  a  pelt-ball 
charged  with  printing-ink,  he  inked  the  stone,  took  off 
a  few  impressions  upon  paper,  and  he  had  invented 
lithography.  The  pelt-ball  used  by  Senefelder  was 
long  indispensable  in  a  printing  office.  A  Salopian 
printer,  in  a  hurry  to  get  on  with  a  job,  could  not  find 
his  ball,  and  inked  the  form  with  a  piece  of  soft  glue 
that  had  fallen  out  of  the  glue-pot,  with  such  excellent 
results  that  he  thenceforth  discarded  the  pelt-ball  alto- 
gether, and  by  adding  treacle  to  the  glue,  to  keep  it 
from  hardening,  hit  upon  the  composition  of  which 
printers'  rollers  have  ever  since  been  made. 

Three  very  different  discoveries  are  recorded  to 
have  resulted  from  the  unintentional  application  of 
intense  heat.  Pliny  attributes  the  discovery  of  glass 
to  some  merchants  traveling  with  niter,  who,  stopping 
on  the  banks  of  a  river  to  take  a  meal,  were  at  loss  for 
stones  to  rest  their  kettles  upon.  Putting  them  upon 
pieces  of  niter,  they  kindled  their  fires ;  the  niter,  dis- 
solved by  the  heat,  mixed  with  the  sand,  and  the  mer- 
chants were  astonished  to  see  a  transparent  matter 
flowing  over  the  ground,  which  was  nothing  else  but 
glass.  Charles  Goodyear  had  for  years  experimented 
in  vain,  hoping  to  deprive  india-rubber  of  its  suscepti- 
bility to  the  action  of  heat  and  cold.  Conversing  with 
a  friend  on  the  subject,  he  emphasized  an  assertion  by 
flinging  a  piece  of  sulphured  rubber  across  the  room  ; 
it  lighted  upon  the  stove,  and  when  he  picked  it  up 
a  few  days  afterward  he  found  the  intense  heat  to 
which  it  had  been  subjected  had  conferred  upon  the 
india-rubber  just  the  quality  he  had  so  long  striven 
to  impart  to  it.  According  to  some  he  stumbled  upon 
the  discovery  in  a  different  manner;  but,  at  any  rate, 


MILAN  CATHEDRAL. 


435 


vulcanized  india-rubber  was  the  creation  of  an  accident. 
A  Limerick  tobacconist,  looking  dolefully  at  -his  poor 
neighbors  groping  among  the  smoldering  ruins  of  his 
burned  out  shop,  noticed  that  some  of  them,  after  try- 
ing the  contents  of  certain  canisters,  carefully  loaded 
their  waistcoat  pockets  from  them.  He  followed  suit, 
and  found  the  snuff  had  come  out  of  the  fiery  ordeal 
very  much  improved  in  pungency  and  aroma.  Like 
a  wise  man  he  said  nothing,  but  took  another  place,  set 
up  a  lot  of  ovens,  and  before  long  Black  Yard  Snuff- 
otherwise  "  Irish  Blackguard" — was  all  the  rage  with 
lovers  of  nasal  titillation ;  and  in  a  few  years  Lundy- 
foot  was  a  rich  man,  owing  to  the  accident  he  thought 
had  ruined  him.  A  would-be  alchemist,  seeking  to  dis- 
cover what  mixture  of  earths  would  make  the  strongest 
crucibles,  one  day  found  he  had  made  porcelain.  In- 
stead of  transmuting  metals,  as  he  had  fondly  hoped  to 
do,  Bottger  transmuted  himself;  "as  if  he  had  been 
touched  with  a  conjurer's  wand,  he  was  on  a  sudden 
transformed  from  an  alchemist  into  a  potter."  • 


MILAN    CATHEDRAL. 

[HE  first  great  cathedral  erected  at  Milan,  Italy, 
was  destroyed  by  Attila ;  the  next  by  fire,  and 
the  corner-stone  of  the  third  and  present  struc- 
ture, of  which  we  give  a  fine  illustration,  was  laid 
March  15,  1387.  It  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
old  buildings  of  Europe.  In  length  it  is  486  feet;  its 
width,  252  feet;  height  of  crown,  153  feet,  and  height 
to  top  of  statue  of  Madonna,  355  feet. 


436 


MILAN  CATHEDRAL. 


The  interior  contains  fifty-two  pillars  of  eight  shafts 
each,  supporting  the  arches  of  the  roof;  these  shafts 
are  eight  feet  in  diameter  and  eighty  feet  high.  The 
doorways  are  of  ancient  Roman  style,  and  the  floors 
laid  in  mosaic  in  red,  white  and  blue  marble.  The 
exterior  is  of  white  marble,  and  has  4,500  niches  and 
pinnacles,  and  in  and  upon  each  of  these  is  a  statue. 


THE   GREAT   CATHEDRAL,    MILAN,    ITALY. 


THE   CRISIS   OF  LIFE.  437 

Milan  is  supposed  to  have  been  founded  by  the 
Gauls,  was  annexed  to  the  Roman  dominion  by  Scipio 
Nascica,  181  B.C.  In  the  fourth  century  it  held  the 
rank  of  sixth  city  of  the  Roman  empire,  and  is  one 
of  the  few  cities  in  Italy  which  have  survived  the  dev- 
astation of  the  middle  ages,  and  brought  down  its 
celebrity  to  modern  times.  It  is  sometimes  called  Little 
Paris. 


THE   CRISIS   OF    LIFE. 

HE  problem  of  life  is  a  theme  that  has  puzzled 
the  brain  of  philosophers  from  the  earliest  records 
of  time.  It  is  the  most  wonderful  subject  that 
"can  occupy  the  mysterious  avenues  of  the  human 
mind.  In  its  contemplation  we  enter  a  grander  and 
more  sublime  field  of  thought,  where  expanding  beauty 
and  unfolding  wonder  seem  to  beckon  us  on  step  by 
step,  from  the  terrestrial  to  the  celestial,  from  earth  to 
heaven. 

In  our  passing  thoughts  we  scarcely  realize  in  what 
an  ocean  of  life  we  are  living.  Life  exists  everywhere. 
In  a  drop  of  water  a  hundred  beings  sport  and  play; 
as  much  at  home  as  the  buffalo  and  wild  horse  of  the 
plain,  or  the  lion  and  tiger  of  their  native  jungle.  There 
they  are,  a  world  within  a  tiny  crystal  drop  ;  pursuing 
their  natural  inclinations,  darting  and  coursing  hither 
and  thither  in  gay  gambols,  or  pursuing  and  chasing 
down  their  prey  ;  for,  like  the  higher  orders  of  organ- 
ism, one  class  lives  only  by  the  destruction  of  another. 
Millions  die  that  millions  more  may  live.  It  is  one 


.-g  THE  CRISIS   OF  LIFE. 

of  the  unchangeable  laws  of  nature  that  construction 
depends  upon  destruction.  There  could  be  no  death 
without  life ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  there  could  be  no 
earthly  life  without  death.  By  far  the  greater  portion 
of  life  is  invisible  to  the  unassisted  eye.  The  micro- 
scope, one  of  the  greatest  of  modern  inventions,  reveals 
these  hidden  wonders  in  innumerable  numbers  every- 
where. The  fine  dust-like  particles  that  float  in  the 
sunbeam,  as  it  shines  aslant  through  some  little  aper- 
ture or  crevice  in  the  wall,  are  shown  to  be  countless 
millions  of  living  beings.  The  atmosphere  is  filled 
with  them.  At  every  breath  we  draw  a  thousand  die. 
The  germs  of  future  life  are  taken  in  with  the  food  we 
eat,  the  water  we  drink,  and  the  air  we  breathe,  and 
finding  their  way  into  the  blood,  are  conveyed  by  the 
purple  current  to  the  remotest  borders  of  the  human 
system,  there  to  remain  dormant  until  the  great  change 
takes  place  in  our  earthly  bodies,  and  the  sightless  eyes 
are  sealed  in  death  —  until  the  imprisoned  soul  leaves 
the  perishable  tabernacle  of  clay  and  flies  to  meet  its 
Maker, —  there  to  enjoy  that  other  and  grander  future 
life,  and  then,  when  decomposition  takes  place  in  the 
soulless  body  left  behind,  those  deeply  implanted  germs 
are  developed,  come  to  maturity,  and  perform  their 
allotted  part  in  changing  the  earthly  temple. 

During  the  transformations  and  changes  which  these 
minute  monads  undergo,  hundreds  perish  where  one 
arrives  at  maturity.  Destructive  influences  and  dangers 
are  active  around  them,  and  they  cannot  stand  the  test. 
The  crises  of  their  lives  are  too  strong  for  them,  and 
they  are  swept  away.  If  we  will  but  take  the  trouble 
to  look  about  us,  we  shall  find  that  almost  every  object 
the  eye  can  behold  has  had  its  crisis  of  life.  The  grass 
and  grain  of  the  fields  undergo  a  crisis.  The  seeds 


THE   CRISIS   OF  LIFE. 


439 


are  scattered  in  almost  every  conceivable  position.  In 
the  little  hollows  a-od  inequalities  of  the  surface  the 
plants  are  often  so  thick  that  they  certainly  cannot  all 
come  to  maturity.  They  seem  to  start  on  an  equal 
footing,  but  a  struggle  for  existence  soon  ensues.  It 
is  the  crisis  of  life.  Part  of  the  stalks  droop  and  die ; 
and  the  remainder,  imbibing  new  life,  push  ahead,  ap- 
parently with  new  vigor,  and  ultimately  arrive  at  a 
golden  maturity. 

The  stately  oak  sheds  its  thousands  of  acorns  upon 
the  ground  beneath  its  branches.  Not  one  in  a  thousand 
can  live  and  grow  where  it  fell.  Hundreds  of  tender 
plants  will  spring  up,  but  ere  they  reach  a  foot  in  height 
they  are  exposed  to  a  host  of  dangers.  Wind,  and  frost, 
and  snow,  combine  and  work  their  destruction ;  and 
animals  feed  upon  them  and  trample  them  down.  Some 
may  exist  two  or  three  years  ;  some  eight  or  ten  ;  and, 
perchance  a  single  one  may  struggle  on  through  the 
crisis,  and  live  to  rear  its  giant  branches  high  in  the 
air,  a  noble  specimen,  having  passed  the  period  of  dan- 
ger, and  now  living  in  strength  and  security,  in  defiance 
of  the  tempest  of  summer  or  the  blast  of  winter.  A 
single  acorn  may  have  been  picked  up  by  a  squirrel, 
and  carried  away  upon  some  distant  hillside,  perhaps 
miles  away,  and  lodged  in  the  earth  among  the  rocks 
and  stones,  there  to  take  root,  spring  up  and  grow  ;  pass- 
ing through  the  crisis  of  life  alone,  and  leaving  all  dan- 
ger behind,  becoming  a  magnificent  oak,  firmly  rooted, 
and  an  enduring  landmark  of  the  region. 

The  garden  poppy  produces  thousands  of  seeds  from 
a  single  bud  ;  and  the  mustard  that  might  grow  on  an 
acre  would  produce  seeds  enough  to  seed  a  nation.  If 
every  seed  that  is  dropped  upon  the  ground  should  take 
root  and  grow,  uninjured  by  destructive  influences,  the 


..Q  THE  CRISIS   OF  LIFE. 

whole  earth  would  be  covered  with  a  solid  mass  of  vege- 
tation in  a  single  year,  and  every  form  of  animated  life 
would  be  smothered  and  swept  out  of  existence.  But 
by  the  all-wise  provision  of  an  eternal  God,  who  rules 
not  only  the  destiny  of  worlds  but  the  myriad  forms  of 
life  tha't  fill  them,  they  are  held  in  check,  and  carried 
forward  in  accordance  with  unvarying  laws  of  being, 
well  calculated  to  fill  the  mind  with  wonder  at  the  wis- 
dom and  goodness  of  the  Creator. 

Chief  among  the  agencies  that  keep  vegetation  back 
is  the  want  of  proper  constituents  in  the  soil.  Corn 
requires  certain  properties  to  produce  sufficient  stalk,  and 
to  carry  it  forward  to  maturity.  Wheat  draws  its  com- 
ponent substances  from  the  soil,  and  when  it  cannot  find 
them  in  proper  amount  the  weaker  stalks  wither,  droop 
and  die.  Falling  to  the  ground  they  return  to  mother 
earth  what  they  have  already'  drawn  therefrom,  that 
other  more  healthy  stalks  may  drink  and  live.  Millions 
of  stalks  are  dwarfed  and  sickly  for  want  of  sufficient 
nourishment,  and  the  grain  they  yield  is  inferior  in  both 
quantity  and  quality.  Millions  more  pass  through  the 
crisis  apparently  with  undiminished  vigor,  and  produce 
a  bounteous  harvest. 

And  thus  it  ever  is.  A  struggle  for  existence  at  the 
start,  and  another  at  the  crises  that  are  to  follow.  Busi- 
ness and  political  matters  follow  in  the  same  train.  A 
young  man  just  starting  in  the  world  struggles  first  for 
a  business  existence  ;  and  in  the  hour  of  adversity,  when 
banks  fail  and  business  is  dull,  he  struggles  against 
panics  and  hard  times.  It  is  the  crisis  of  his  business 
life.  If  he  lives  through  it  he  becomes  founded  on  bet- 
ter ground,  and  bids  fair  to  become  a  successful  man. 
For,  like  the  stalk  of  wheat  or  corn  that  has  withstood 
the  crisis  of  drought,  or  frost,  and  witnessed  the  over- 


THE  CRISIS   OF  LIFE. 


441 


throw  of  its  brothers,  he  has  fewer  rivals,  and  a  greater 
field  of  action.  A  young  farmer  purchases  a  farm  ;  he 
scarcely  has  capital  to  pay  for  it,  yet  he  must  have 
stock  and  seed  and  tools  to  work  with.  He  works  early 
and  late ;  he  practices  economy  and  self-denial ;  he 
struggles  for  existence  as  a  farmer.  He  succeeds  ;  but 
an  hour  of  trial  comes.  A  disease  gets  among  his  cattle 
and  sweeps  them  off;  or  his  house,  through  some  unfore- 
seen accident,  takes  fire  and  is  burned  down.  He  has 
little  money,  for  he  has  used  it  all  in  paying  for  his  com- 
mencement in  life.  A  feeling  of  discouragement  seems 
almost  taking  possession  of  his  mind,  and  he  feels  as 
though  he  were  like  the  drooping  stalk  of  grain,  dying 
for  want  of  nourishment.  But  no ;  he  has  a  mind, 
and  a  will,  and  the  illustration  shall  not  apply.  Arous- 
ing his  languishing  energies  he  grapples  with  the  stern 
tide  of  adversity  and  conquers.  It  is  the  crisis  of  his 
agricultural  life.  His  foundation  is  better  than  it  ever 
was  before,  and  his  enjoyment  seems  better  and  deeper, 
and  more  lasting,  for  passing  through  the  ordeal. 

We  have  to  make  our  choice  in  life,  and  to  abide  by 
the  results  of  our  decision  when  made.  We  cannot  go 
two  different  ways  at  once,  nor  take  a  deep  draught 
and  keep  the  cup  still  full,  nor  spend  and  save.  We 
can  make  a  loaf  of  bread  or  brew  a  cup  of  beer  at  our 
pleasure,  but  we  cannot  make  both  out  of  the  measure 
of  meal  that  is  enough  for  one.  "  Which  shall  it  be  ?  " 
is  the  great  question  to  be  asked  by  each  of  us  ;  and  the 
story  of  the  choice  of  Hercules  is  repeated  in  the  life  of 
every  man  who  thinks  and  every  woman  who  feels. 

Which  shall  it  be  —  selfish  happiness  (if  indeed 
happiness,  which  necessarily  includes  feeling,  can  ever 
be  got  out  of  selfishness),  or  generous  consideration  for 
others  —  "in  honor  preferring  one  another"?  If  we 


^2  '     THE   CRISIS   OF  LIFE. 

choose  willfulness  and  opposition  we  must  make  up  our 
minds  to  do  without  sympathy  and  love.  If  we  are 
quarrelsome,  arbitrary,  irritable,  and  irritating  — if  we 
find  our  companions'  sore  points  and  rasp  them  rudely, 
or  even  more  subtly  than  rudely  —  well,  we  choose  this 
as  our  way ;  but  we  cannot  have  in  return  that  pleasant 
reliance  on  our  sweetness,  our  sympathy,  our  com- 
fortable amiability,  which  makes  the  solace  of  those  who 
turn  to  us  in  their  moments  of  trouble  and  gives  to  us 
ourselves  the  happiness  which  we  bestow.  If  we  are 
light  and  frivolous,  pleasure-loving,  idle,  caring  only  for 
the  day's  amusement,  and  not  for  what  lasts  longer  than 
mere  pleasure,  we  shall  never  be  included  in  those  holy 
moments  of  deep  feeling  which  bind  hearts  to  each 
other  more  than  any  amount  of  personal  liking. 

Nations  and  empires,  as  well  as  enterprises  and  indi- 
viduals, also  have  their  crises  of  life.  On  the  4th  of 
July,  1776,  the  United  States  of  America,  as  a  free,  in- 
dependent nation,  was  born.  The  war  of  the  revolution 
was  a  mighty  struggle  for  existence.  She  gained  the 
victory,  and  took  her  proud  position  among  the  nations 
of  the  earth.  For  eighty-five  years  she  rose  in  power 
and  greatness  as  no  nation  ever  rose  before.  In  1861 
the  great  civil  war  took  place,  and  she  was  shaken  to 
her  very  foundation.  The  conflict  was  the  most  terrible 
that  the  page  of  history  records.  The  shock  was  fear- 
ful. The  monarchial  countries  of  Europe  looked  on, 
and  laughed  in  exultation,  fully  believing,  as  they  had 
predicted,  that  the  experiment  of  free  government  had 
at  length  proved  an  ignominious  failure.  But  the  Union 
came  through  the  crisis  a  free  government  still,  and  to- 
day she  stands  at  the  head  of  nations. 

Man,  as  a  physical  being,  has  his  struggle  for  exist- 
ence and  his  crisis  of  life.  His  infancy  and  early  years 


THE   CRISIS   OF  LIFE. 


443 


are  exposed  to  almost  unnumbered  dangers.  His  tender 
constitution  can  bear  but  little,  and  a  trifling  sickness 
will  waft  the  little  sufferer  into  the  boundless  realms  of 
eternity.  It  is  said  that  one  half  of  the  human  race  die 
before  they  reach  their  eleventh  year.  Like  the  grain 
that  springs  up  in  the  field,  they  cannot  all  live.  Those 
early  months  and  years  of  the  young  life  consist  of  one 
long-continued  struggle  for  existence.  About  the  age 
of  ten  or  twelve  his  existence  seems  to  be  more  firmly 
established,  and  his  chances  for  life  appear  to  rest  on  a 
surer  foundation.  His  bodily  nature  being  established, 
the  formation  of  his  moral  and  mental  character  com- 
mences. The  grander  part  of  life  is  now  to  be  severely 
tested.  He  is  surrounded  by  all  sorts  of  humanity. 
Those  who  chew  tobacco,  and  take  snuff,  and  smoke,  are 
around  him,  and  they  seek  to  lead  the  young  mind 
astray.  Then  there  are  those  who  gamble,  and  drink, 
and  steal,  with  all  their  kindred  vices  :  and  with  such  he 
must  meet  almost  every  day.  A  thousand  snares  thicken 
around  him,  and  temptations  arise  on  every  hand.  It  is 
the  great  crisis  of  his  life.  It  requires  courage  to  meet 
it.  He  who  can  stand  boldly  up  and  face  the  tempter, 
and  learn  to  say  No  to  all  the  evil  allurements  that  may 
be  set  forth,  is  a  hero.  The  taunts  and  jeers  of  fast 
young  men  maybe  rained  upon  him  without  mercy;  but 
he  knows  he  is  in  the  right,  and  their  bitter  words  can- 
not kill.  The  conflict  may  be  fierce  and  long  ;  but  when 
an  unbending  will  guides  the  reins  of  virtue,  truth  and 
honesty,  it  has  the  help  of  Heaven  to  carry  it  through, 
and  its  noble  possessor  will  pass  the  ordeal  unscathed 
and  free. 


444  PAST,  PRESENT  AND  FUTURE. 


PAST,  PRESENT  AND  FUTURE. 

•N  these  days  of  books  and  printed  papers  we 
can  have  but  little  idea  of  the  inconvenience  the 
ancients  were  subjected  to  in  this  respect.  Then 

there  were  no  printing   presses,  no   lithographing; 

everything  had  to  be  written,  and   this  was   done 

with  great  difficulty  for  want  of  pens  and  paper, 
such  as  we  have. 

At  first  the  writing  was  on  tablets  of  wood,  or  stone, 
or  metal,  or  ivory.  It  was  common  to  cover  a  tablet 
with  a  thin  coating  of  wax,  and  then  with  a  pointed  iron 
instrument  scratch  the  writing ;  but  this  was  found  to 
be  too  unreliable  for  important  matters,  as  the  wax  was 
easily  melted  off  by  heat,  or  erased  by  coming  in  contact 
with  hard  substances.  To  avoid  this  evil,  the  matter 
which  they  would  preserve  they  engraved  on  the  tablet 
itself,  as  inscriptions  are  now  cut  on  marble.  The  Ten 
Commandments,  we  are  told,  were  written  on  tables  of 
stone.  This  writing,  it  is  supposed,  was  an  engraving. 
The  Egyptians  and  Babylonians  kept  their  laws  and 
valuable  records  in  this  way.  The  same  was  true  of 
the  Greeks  and  Romans. 

But  these  articles  were  found  so  inconvenient  that 
they  gave  place  to  more  pliant  material ;  and  this  was 
found  in  a  kind  of  paper  made  from  the  papyrus  of 
Egypt.  This  was  a  marsh  plant,  like  the  bulrush,  that 
was  very  common.  Some  have  said  that  it  was  on  the 
leaves  of  this  plant  that  they  wrote ;  but  the  paper 
proper  was  made  from  the  stalk,  either  from  the  woody 
part  or  pith,  or  both.  This  was  cut  into  sections,  and 
then  a  thin  layer  separated  with  sharp  instruments,  as 


PAST,   PRESENT  AND  FUTURE.  445 

one  draws  a  curtain  from  the  roller.  This  was  spread 
upon  a  table,  and  then  another  laid  upon  it  so  as  to 
cross  the  grain,  until  the  thickness  desired  was  obtained. 
The  whole  was  then  subjected  to  pressure  and  dried, 
when  it  was  found  to  be  a  very  tolerable  paper.  It  was 
then  made  into  sheets  of  the  desired  width  and  length, 
and  rolled  on  a  roller.  These  rollers  were  often 
artistically  made  with  curved  handles,  and  when  valuable, 
and  possessed  by  the  rich,  were  kept  in  cases  of  great 
beauty. 

About  this  time,  also,  the  skins  of  animals  were 
dressed  so  as  to  be  used  for  inscriptions.  These  were 
very  durable,  and  were  sought  for,  for  important  docu- 
ments. It  was  on  such  that  the  Jews  wrote  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  it  is  said  that  from  such  rolls  they  still  read 
the  Scriptures  in  their  synagogues  every  Sabbath  Day. 

The  Egyptian  paper,  as  it  was  called,  continued  in 
use  for  several  centuries,  but  then  gave  place  to  a  bet- 
ter kind  called  the  Claudian  paper.  This  was  made  of 
the  papyrus,  but  was  heavier  and  made  smoother  by- 
sizing.  It  continued  in  use  until  the  eleventh  century, 
when  cotton  displaced  it,  and  since  that  time  the  man- 
ufacture of  paper  has  been  carried  to  a  wonderful 
perfection. 

The  rolls  have  also  given  place  to  the  bound  vol- 
ume, and  the  type  has  almost  displaced  the  pen.  Im- 
portant words  and  sentences  are  hardly  written  ere  the 
press  catches  them  and  they  are  multiplied  without 
number. 

Now  we  can  buy  a  book  for  a  song,  but  how  differ- 
ent in  the  early  ages  !  We  are  told  that  Plato  bought 
three  books  of  Philolaus  for  sixteen  hundred  dollars. 

Aristotle,  it  is  said,  paid  three  thousand  dollars  for 
a  few  books,  and  St.  Jerome  impoverished  his  estate 


446 


PAST,   PRESENT  AND  FUTURE. 


to  buy  the  works  of  Origen.  A  bible  sold  for  one 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  when  labor  was  worth  but 
about  two  cents  a  day.  Now  books  are  thick  as  black- 
berries, and  a  man  can  purchase  a  bible  for  one  quarter 
of  a  day's  labor. 

In  our  journey  through  life,  wherever  we  are  and 
whatever  our  situation  or  avocation,  we  are  continually 
learning  lessons.  Life  might  be  termed  a  grand  school, 
and  we  the  students,  for  no  rational  being  can  live 
without  this  constant  learning  of  something.  These 
lessons  may  be  simple,  but  they  are  numerous,  and 
engage  our  time  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 

Though  these  lessons  may  be  simple  and  easily 
acquired,  there  is  one  very  important  lesson  in  life 
that  is  not  to  be  acquired  in  a  day,  or  even  in  years,  by 
some.  Many,  indeed,  have  spent  their  whole  life  with- 
out learning  it, —  it  is  simply  to  learn  how  little  we 
know  and  how  much  we  do  not  know.  Simple  as  this 
may  seem  to  some,  there  is  much  embraced  in  it,  and 
I  think  when  this  lesson  has  been  once  mastered  by 
any  one,  he  has  learned  the  greatest  and  most  impor- 
tant lesson  to  be  known  in  life. 

Knowledge  is  boundless.  Having  learned  all  we 
could  on  earth,  something  would  remain.  Man  may 
progress  as  long  as  he  remains  in  this  world,  and  it 
is  only  fair  to  presume  that  the  process  continues  in 
the  next,  and  that  with  enlarged  capabilities  he  con- 
tinues to  learn. 

There  can  be  no  such  thing  as  a  complete  educa- 
tion, at  least  on  earth.  But  it  is  not  seldom  that  we 
hear  of  persons  who,  having  graduated  at  some  college 
or  place  of  learning,  are  spoken  of  as  having  completed 
their  education.  Such  persons  sometimes  boast  that 
they  have  learned  all  there  is  to  know,  and  are  hence 


PAST,   PRESENT  AND  FUTURE.  447 

incapable  of  receiving  instruction.  How  mistaken  this 
idea!  One  thing  is  lacking  in  such:  they  know  not 
how  little  they  do  know.  The  greatest  and  wisest 
men  that  ever  lived  considered  themselves  but  little 
nearer  a  perfect  education  than  the  child  or  youth.  Hav- 
ing learned  how  little  we  know,  we  are  wise.  We  are 
then  ready  to  progress  onward,  knowing  ourselves  to 
be,  what  we  really  are,  mere  beginners  in  the  great  field 
of  knowledge.  Then,  too,  we  should  try  to  progress. 
Though  we  may  never  become  eminent  or  notorious, 
though  the  world  may  never  hear  of  us,  we  may  become 
useful  and  honorable  members  of  society  by  the  ac- 
quirement of  whatever  degree  of  knowledge  lies  in  our 
power. 

Though  we  may  never  become  Newtons  in  every 
respect,  we  may  in  one,  and  that  is  in  a  knowledge  of 
our  own  insignificance.  Near  the  close  of  his  illus- 
trious and  eventful  life  he  gave  utterance  to  these 
beautiful  and  touching  words,  which  are  so  applicable 
to  us  that  all  should  remember  them :  "  I  seem,"  he 
said,  "  to  have  been  only  like  a  boy  playing  on  the  sea- 
shore, and  diverting  myself  in  now  and  then  finding 
a  smoother  pebble  or  a  prettier  shell  than  ordinary, 
whilst  the  great  ocean  of  truth  lay  undiscovered  before 
me." 

Young  men  and  women,  you  will  soon  have  not 
only  the  ship  of  state,  but  the  destinies  of  the  world 
committed  to  your  care  !  Resolve  this  hour  to  prove 
yourselves  well  worthy  of  the  great  trust.  The  young 
men  who  will  be  the  statesmen,  governors  and  presi- 
dents in  the  year  1900  are  now  among  us.  They  are 
not  found  among  those  who  frequent  saloons,  tippling- 
houses  and  gambling-dens, —  they  are  to-day  leading 
virtuous  lives,  eager  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge.  The 


448  PAST,   PRESENT  AND  FUTURE. 

great  book  of  Nature  lies  before  us  all,  and  inwardly 
the  cry  comes  welling  up  in  our  bosoms  —  shake  off 
this  lethargic  sleep  of  inaction!  —  arise,  go  forth  and 
learn ! 

Surely  the  world  moves,  and  we  may  be  thankful 
that  we  live  in  these  last  days,  when  the  knowledge 
of  the  world  is  open  to  its  inhabitants,  and  the  poorest 
may  have  their  bible,  their  books  and  their  papers, 
almost  as  free  as  the  air  they  breathe.  There  may  be 
better  centuries  to  come,  but  no  century  of  the  past 
has  been  as  good  to  live  in  as  the  one  that  has  been 
given  to  us. 


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